


we are who we are (when no one's watching)

by darkzarrie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Based on a Sophie Kinsella book, Bottom Harry, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romantic Comedy, Secret Relationship, Top Zayn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-15 21:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13621683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkzarrie/pseuds/darkzarrie
Summary: 11.) He’s afraid of flying.Harry’s never told anyone that he’s afraid of flying, just because it sounds lame. He isn’t phobic or anything. It’s not like he can’t get on a plane. It just… he prefers to be on the ground, is all.He goes to pick up the laminated safety instructions and begins to read. He’s only disturbed when the person who’s assigned to sit next to him excuses himself so he can pass by and take the window seat. Harry goes to move and looks up at the stranger.His world stops right in front of him at the sight of the man. He's the most beautiful man Harry’s ever seen. And he’s seen Ryan Gosling in person, mind you.He was about to go introduce himself to the lovely stranger beside him when he hears Gigi’s voice through the speakers. “Thank you for flying with IMG Air. Please fasten your seatbelt, our flight is about to take off.”Harry gulps at that and adjusts his already-tight seat belt. The announcement enough to distract him from the beautiful stranger. He’ll have to talk to him later.-or, Harry tells a complete stranger all his secrets and he finds out later he’s the CEO for the company he works for.also, a secret relationship AU that no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alnima](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alnima/gifts).



Of course Harry has secrets. Everyone does.

He doesn’t have big, earth-shattering secrets. Not ‘The Prime Minister is secretly working with Donald Trump’ type of secrets, no. Just normal, everyday little secrets.

To name a few that Harry could list off the top of his head:

1.) The dress shirt he’s wearing isn’t really from Yves Saint Laurent like he said to a few colleagues at work. He bought it at a cancer research charity shop for a just a small amount. (But for a big cause!)

2.) Another secret is that his favorite movie isn’t really Batman Vs Superman, it’s really The Lucky One- No, Breakfast at Tiffany’s. No, wait. The Notebook. Yeah, definitely The Notebook. He isn’t a fan of Marvel or DC movies like he says he is, he’s more of a rom com guy. In his defense, the only reason Harry told that lie was because his immediate supervisor, Liam, offhandedly mentioned in one of their conversations that he judges people based on their favorite movies. And let’s just say, Harry’s been wanting to get a promotion for almost a year now.

3.) Whenever he’s pissed off with Camille, one of the other Senior Marketing Executives he works with who treats him like a goddamn secretary, he waters her plant with orange juice. (Which is pretty much everyday.)  And if Harry’s feeling extra pissed off with her, he’d water it with coffee. Yes, it isn’t the plant’s fault but Camille’s a pain in the arse and it’s what she deserves.

4.) Speaking of coffee, the coffee they serve at the office pantry is the worst. Pure poison.

5.) Also, Harry’s responsible for breaking the old coffee machine. It was an ‘accident.’

6.) One time, Harry had this weird sexual dream about himself and his roommate slash best friend, Niall. Harry’s a gay man. Which, by the way, is _no_ secret. The only weird thing about the dream is that Niall is like a brother to him and somehow, the dream gave him intense incest feels.

7.) And since we’re in the roommate category of secrets, whenever their third roommate, Nick, is out of town, Harry and Niall would enter his room and _‘borrow’_ some of his designer clothes. (And yup, the shoes he’s wearing are _really_ Gucci.)

8.) Harry’s always had this deep down conviction that he’s not like everybody else, and there's an amazingly exciting new life waiting for him just around the corner. He just doesn’t know what it is and if it’s ever going to happen.

9.) Harry’s not a Senior Marketing Executive like he’s told the bartender who’s serving his drinks. He’s actually just a _Junior_ Marketing Executive. His boss, Liam, just told him to fly to Glasgow to deliver the contract to the President of ACR Marketing.

Harry is on his fourth drink when the airport begins to spin. His flight back to England got delayed because of the bad weather so the airlines he’s flying with decided to open their bar to the passengers affected, a stroke of good luck Harry needed.

“Another one mate?” the bartender asks, approaching Harry with a questioning eyebrow raised. Harry only nods at him, afraid of opening his mouth because vomit might come out. The bartender only nods at him, maybe he knows that Harry’s already drunk off his ass but Harry doesn’t care. He’s already a failure as it is.

It started with Liam asking Harry to cover for him in Glasgow because he needed to attend his kid’s friend’s birthday party this weekend. None of the other Senior Marketing Executives seemed interested so Harry was provided with the task.

“You just need to get the papers signed, Haz,” Liam had instructed, “it should be really easy. He already knows about the deal, all he needs is to sign. That’s it.” Harry agreed even though the trip was scheduled on one of his days off since Liam promised a recommendation for a promotion once he got back. (The only reason Harry nodded his head in interest, to be honest.)

By the time he took a plane on Friday night, bags packed with his - and Nick’s - clothes and landed in Glasgow, he wasn’t just Harry Styles. He’s Harry Styles, Senior Marketing Executive. His mum’s advice when he was just a kid is echoing inside his head. _“Always shake everyone’s hand when you enter a room,”_ she’d say while she brushes his wild curls, _“it makes a good first impression.”_

And that’s what Harry did the moment he entered the building, he shook everyone’s hand from the officer who told him to wait in one of the couches to the president of ACR Marketing, Lance Ho, himself. Everything is going swell, he has the president laughing only two minutes after he’s entered the office. He looks at his reflection at the mirror and he looks like a top businessman, plus Harry’s always been good at charming the pants off of everyone. He’s already 100% sure that once he gets back home, his recommendation papers will be ready.

"We believe in logistical formative alliances," Lance Ho says in a nasal, droning voice, "both above and below the line."

“Absolutely,” Harry replies brightly, pretending to look interested.

10.) He doesn’t know what ‘Logistical’ means.

Harry clears his throat as he pretends to listen to Lance, thinking of what Logistical means again. _Oh shit, what if they ask him?.. Of course not! You’re both seemingly smart marketing experts. He isn’t going to suddenly stop and  ask what Logistical means… Are you?_

“So, Mr Styles,” Lance says, disturbing Harry’s thoughts. He flips through the contract Harry gave him.

_Please don’t ask me what logistical means cause if you do I’d tell you something stupid like I’m post-logistical or change the subject or something._

“I’ve been thinking about the deal and...” Uh oh. Harry doesn’t like the tone he’s using.

“Oh,” he says as he clears his throat, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lance says slowly, eyes moving from the contract to Harry. “And I think ACR Marketing isn’t... Isn’t about this...” And that’s when Harry Styles, Senior Marketing Executive, shatters. He gulps, he gulps so loud he swears Lance heard it.

“Wha-what do you mean?” Harry stutters, beginning to play with the rings on his fingers.

“Well,” Lance says, straightening his tie, “ACR is a family-friendly company whereas Mystery is so.. Masculine, don’t you think?” he explains.

Harry nods his head, pretending to understand but deep inside, it’s a war zone in his head.

“...I mean, from one marketing expert to another,” he says again, “you’d understand the logistics, right?” Harry gulps again, trying to look anywhere but at Lance, trying to search for inspiration.

“Clearly, Mystery and ACR are heading in different directions,” Lance says, a tone of finality in his voice.

No. This can’t be happening, Harry thinks. Liam said this was a done deal and all Harry had to do was shake Lance’s hand and make him sign the fucking contract. He can’t be pulling out now. Not with Harry. Not when his promotion is on the line.

Harry’s heart is thumping and his face his hot, he didn’t come prepared for this. Everyone back in the office will think that this is his fault.

“We'll certainly discuss it again before we make a decision,” Lance says, pushing his chair back. He gives Harry a brief smile. “And as I said, we would like to continue links with the Mystery Machines Corporation, so this has been a useful meeting in any case.”

Lance stands and goes to head out the office. He’s leaving with Harry and his unsigned contract. He needs to shut the deal - no, _close_ the deal. Yeah, close it.

“Wait,” Harry ends up shouting. “I have a few points to make.” No, he doesn’t have a few points to make. He searches the room again for something to spark his creativity when he sees it - a can of Mystery Soda amongst other drinks on the table.

 _You can do this_ , Harry mentally tells himself. _You’re Harry Styles, Senior Marketing Executive. You can shut, no -_ close _this deal._

Harry picks up the can and looks at it a final time before saying, “I’m sorry Lance, but I disagree with ACR’s decision.” He stands up the same time Lance mutters an _excuse me_ and raises the Mystery Soda in the air for the both of them to see. “I said I’m sorry, I disagree,” Harry repeats a little less confident compared to earlier. “Mystery soda is a… uhm, a drink.”

_What a disaster._

“It’s uhm… it is very...” _Think Harry. Think._ He racks his brain for pieces of information he knows about ACR and Mystery’s deal.

“I think Mystery Corporation is what ACR needs,” Harry says lamely, making Lance raise his eyebrows at him. “ACR...” He looks around Lance’s office and sees the slogan, _‘Longest Running Family Business since 1913.’_  “I... I think your family, Lance… needs... A man in the house.”

Harry knows he sounds lowkey sexist right now and if Gemma were here, he’s a hundred percent sure she’d kick his ass whilst saying _“Who needs a man in the family?”_ He mentally apologizes to her even though she isn’t really there and continues.

“Mystery is not just about Masculinity,” Harry says, reading the words ‘energy’ and ‘strength’ at the front of it. “It’s about a man’s strength to protect his family...” He waves the can at Lance and continues. “Mystery is not just a brand for men. It’s for dads, uncles, young men, trans men and even gay men,” he says, gesturing to himself at the latter part of the speech. “It’s about men. Men in the family.”

Lance Ho looks at him, obviously impressed as Harry waves the can of Mystery Soda at him the can once more. “Since the launch of Mystery Soda back in 2001, Mystery drinks have been a byword for energy, strength and excitement.” Thank God Liam made him type Mystery Soda’s marketing blurb a million times, he’d have to kiss him on the cheek when he gets back to London.

“Mystery Soda is a Marketing phenomenon,” Harry continues fluently and more confidently, “we are now offering ACR an opportunity to join this premium, world-famous brand. We’re giving ACR the chance to make Mystery Soda their man in the family.”

Harry’s flying, he’s fantastic. If Liam sees him now, he’ll give him a promotion on the spot.

“ACR needs a man in the family,” he concludes, “and that will happen if ACR lets Mystery-” Harry plants the can in between the two of them on Lance’s desk and reaches out to for the ring pull to snap it back- “in.”

It’s like a volcanic eruption, Harry thinks.

The moment Harry opens the can, it explodes. Turns out, Harry’s been shaking it absentmindedly whilst delivering his speech. He looks at Lance in horror and sees he’s soaking wet with Mystery Soda

“Fuck,” Harry gasps, “I mean, I’m... I’m really sorry.” He immediately grabs a tissue from the table and is about to wipe some of the soda off of Lance’s shirt but Lance doesn’t give him a chance. He jumps away from him and goes to the tissue box himself.

“Thank you, Mr Styles,” he says, not looking at him. “But I think this family doesn’t need a man in the house.”

And that was the last thing Harry heard from Lance Ho before his assistant came in and showed him out the building together with his unsigned contract.

Four hours later, he’s on his sixth Jack Coke, drunk off his petty ass. Harry hears his phone ring from inside his pocket, disturbing him asking the bartender to make him drink number seven. He fishes it out clumsily, ignoring the concerned look of the flight attendant sitting a few stools away from him with a glass of clear water in front of her.

_Please, stare all you want at Harry Styles, Mystery Machine Corporations’ Marketing failure by all means._

“Hello,” he slurs at his phone once he’s successful in getting it out of his pocket. He turns his back at the flight attendant and tries to focus on whoever the hell called him. _Oh shit. What if it’s Liam? Fuck._

“Hiya mate,” a familiar Irish drawl sounds on the other line. “How did it go?”

Harry releases a sigh of relief at the sound of his best friend’s voice. “It was a fucking disaster, Ni,” Harry says dramatically, resting his head on the bar table.

“What happened?” he asks, voice sounding concerned. It makes Harry feel twice the failure as before. Harry has known Niall since the first day of college. Harry was looking for his college dorm but he found this Irish lad instead, drinking beer by the staircase because “ _I got tired of looking, so I thought I’d get myself a drink_ ,” gesturing his bottle of beer at Harry. He only shrugged his shoulders and joined him. After two bottles or four, Harry found out that they were roommates and together they ventured to look for their dorm room. (Which was actually just the dorm right next to the staircase.)

“I spilled soda all over the guy’s shirt,” Harry tells his best friend miserably.

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Okay, let me elaborate then,” Harry says, sitting up straight. “I made it rain Mystery Soda in Lance Ho’s office today while begging him to sign the contract my boss made me deliver. It was like a fucking volcanic eruption, Ni. It was awful.” Along the bar, Harry sees the flight attendant from earlier hide a smile, it makes him flush scarlet.

“Ouch,” Niall says under his breath, “it does sound like it.”

“Thank you, Niall,” he deadpans, signaling the bartender to bring in drink number 7.

“I mean,” Niall begins to say, “it could be worse right? Least you didn’t accidentally say that his firstborn son looks like an alien like last time.”

“Again, thank you Niall,” Harry says nonchalantly as he takes a huge swig of his drink, pretending to listen to Niall’s obligatory motivational best friend speech.

“...I mean, you went there on your day off for Christ’s sake! That must count for something, right?” Niall says on the other line. “They’d be a fool not to promote you.”

“Thanks, Ni,” Harry says, sighing. “What would I do without you?”

“Die of boredom, I guess?”

“Prick,” Harry says with a small smile. He hears his flight is about to start boarding from the airport speakers. “I gotta go,” Harry tells him, taking out his wallet from his back pocket to tip the bartender. “The plane’s bout to start boarding.” They say their goodbyes and promises to drink some more once Harry returns home from Glasgow.

He leaves the bartender some cash and goes to get up from the stool when he accidentally knocks over the glass of jack coke, making his shirt soaking wet. “Perfect,” Harry says exasperatedly as he ruffles his curls. _Why me?_ He asks the gods above. He begins to wipe the stain away using a table napkin when he hears the flight attendant from earlier clear her throat.

Harry pauses what he’s doing and goes to look at her with both eyebrows raised.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Uhm,” the flight attendant begins to say, her cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. “So, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation earlier on your phone.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, continuing his attempts to clean his shirt. “I had a long day.”

“So I heard,” she says as she watches Harry clean. “Tell you what, are you flying to England?”

Harry raises his eyebrows at her. “Yeah, why?”

She grins at Harry before saying, “How about I give you a free upgrade to business class?”

Harry and the flight attendant, Gigi, go to the gate together. She even offered Harry a black shirt with a small logo of IMG Air stitched in the front pocket, which Harry accepted gratefully. He’s starting to get his confidence back and is already identifying himself as Harry Styles, Senior Marketing Executive instead of Harry Styles, guy who spilled Mystery Soda on Lance Ho, Marketing Manager of ACR Corp as soon as Gigi leads him inside a private lounge made exclusively for business class passengers.

The lounge is only occupied by five people including himself. There are two ladies in their late sixties wearing designer coats and hats with small dogs inside their bags. There’s also a smartly-dressed, dark-skinned woman typing something on her computer, and lastly there’s a guy whose back is turned to him, currently talking to someone in his phone.

Harry tries to walk as normally as he can towards one of the seats, willing his un-sober mind to cooperate. He sits there for probably ten more minutes before Gigi returns, announcing that the plane is now boarding. Harry lets the other passengers go first, still working on sobering up. He and the other guy on the phone are the last ones in the lounge, the other still busy talking to someone on the phone.

“You good?” he hears Gigi ask, offering her arm for Harry to grab onto, knowing Harry isn’t in the right state of mind as of this moment.

“I’m good now,” he says, hooking his arm with hers and attempting to walk as steadily as he can.

Once they’re inside the plane, Gigi deposits him in his seat - his _business class_ seat - and promises she’ll get back to him later. Harry thanks her and settles in his seat, already strapping his seatbelts as tightly as he can.

11.) He’s afraid of flying.

Harry’s never told anyone that he’s afraid of flying, just because it sounds lame. He isn’t phobic or anything. It’s not like he can’t get on a plane. It just… he prefers to be on the ground, is all.

He goes to pick up the laminated safety instructions and begins to read. He’s only disturbed when the person who’s assigned to sit next to him excuses himself so he can pass by and take the window seat. Harry goes to move and looks up at the stranger.

His world stops right in front of him at the sight of the man. The stranger is the most beautiful man Harry’s ever seen. _And he’s seen Ryan Gosling in person, mind you_.

Harry’s transfixed, mesmerized. If the stranger didn’t clear his throat impatiently at him, he would have stared at him all day long. He lets him pass and take the window seat, his perfume lingering around Harry. It makes him like the guy more.

 _You’re Harry Styles, Senior Marketing Executive,_ he tells himself mentally. _You got this._

He was about to go introduce himself to the lovely stranger beside him when he hears Gigi’s voice through the speakers.

“Thank you for flying with IMG Air. Please fasten your seat belt, our flight is about to take off.”

Harry gulps at that and adjusts his already-tight seat belt. The announcement enough to distract him from the beautiful stranger. He’ll have to talk to him later.

**_//_ **

_Breathe in, breathe out._

That’s what Harry’s been telling himself for the past thirty minutes now. It’s been a couple minutes since the seat belt sign turned off but he still has his strapped around his waist tightly.

While the plane was taking off, Harry started counting to a hundred with his eyes tightly shut, which kind of worked. He tried to overcome this silly fear once before, he really did. If only he didn’t wake up to a YouTube video playing that’s titled: Top 50 Worst Airplane Crashes.

He’s trying _very_ hard to look like a relaxed top marketing executive on his business class trip, but it just isn’t happening, thanks to the disturbing noises the airplane’s been making that make Harry’s heart jitters.

With an outward veneer of calm he reaches for the laminated safety instructions and runs his eyes over them. _Safety exits. Brace position. If life jackets are required, please assist the elderly and children first._ Oh God— Elderly and Children first? What about grown baby men like him?!

He also wonders why he keeps staring at this safety instruction laminate. Like, how will gazing at pictures of little stick people jumping into the ocean while their plane explodes behind them make anyone feel better?

He stuffs the safety instructions quickly back in the pocket and takes a gulp of free champagne.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

He hears the beautiful stranger beside him huff. Probably already annoyed at Harry’s heavy breathing.

Harry looks to his right and the stranger has his attention outside the window, clearly not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment, giving Harry the chance to get a better look at him. (Another stroke of luck he needed to get through his bad day, not to mention something else to distract Harry and keep his fear from taking over all his senses.)

The stranger is wearing casual clothes, unlike him and the other passengers who are currently in smart suits and fancy clothes. He has black ripped jeans on and a black jacket with a hood. Peeking outside the jacket is a white shirt with something printed in the middle that Harry just can’t pinpoint as to what it is. Maybe a doodle of a dog or a building? He also has golden tanned skin, and beautiful raven hair. And, oh shit, are those tattoos? Harry wants to get a better look.

He was just about to open his mouth and say something when he feels the airplane bump, making one of the flight attendants stagger.

_Why the hell is the airplane bumping? Oh fuck._

Harry breathes in and out and counts to a hundred. _Fifty-Eight, Fifty-Nine, Six-_

“Fucking shit,” Harry says nervously, gripping the handles of his seat. There’s another bump - more noticeable compared to the first one. Relax, everything’s fine. The plane probably hit a pigeon or some-

And that’s it. That’s when things start to fragment. He hears people with him on the flight scream first before he realizes what’s happening.

 _Oh shit… OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT WE’RE FALLING_.

They're plummeting downwards. The plane's dropping through the air like a stone. A man seated at front literally just shot up through the air and banged his head in the ceiling. He’s bleeding, Harry’s grasping his seat tightly, trying hard not to copy the man. It’s like gravity’s malfunctioning. Bags are flying, drinks are spilling, cabin crew have fallen over.

The plane is slowing down and things are starting to get better. If only Harry could get a grip on himself; he’s still recovering from that unexpected fall. He looks to his right and the beautiful stranger is doing the same thing as he is: grasping his seat as tightly as Harry.

Harry feels sick. He might get sick. _Oh God._

“Ladies and gentlemen,” comes a voice over the intercom, and everyone's heads jerk up. '”This is your captain speaking.”

Harry’s heart is jittering inside his chest as he listens.

“We're currently hitting some clear-air turbulence, and things may be unsteady for a while. I have switched on the seatbelt signs and would ask that you all return to your seats as quickly as—” There’s another huge bump and his voice is replaced with the screams and cries all over the plane.

It’s like a bad dream. A bad roller coaster dream, Harry thinks as he watches the cabin crew strap themselves to their seats. One minute they were giving out roasted chestnuts, the next one of their crew is wiping blood off their face. This isn’t the type of thing that happens to Harry. It happens to people in videos, safety videos. Not Harry.

“Keep calm,” Harry hears the pilot say, “as soon as we have more information we’ll..”

_Keep calm?! I can’t fucking breathe. How the fucking hell do I fucking keep calm?!_

From behind him he hears someone mutter their prayers, and _oh shit_ . People are praying. This is real. Harry’s gonna die. He gets flashbacks of the times Daisy asked him to go to church with her and he regrets many, no, _all_ of the times he said no to her. If only he said yes. Even for just one time.

He’s starting to feel all kinds of regrets in his chest as the airplane lurches once more.

This is it.

This is the end.

 _We’re gonna fucking die_.

“I’m sorry?” the beautiful stranger besides him asks with concerned eyes focused at Harry.

_Did I just say that out loud?_

“We’re going to die,” Harry says with a manic voice. This could be the last person he’ll see alive so he might as well cut the bullshit.

The airplane drops down again, making Harry involuntarily shriek.

“I don’t think we’re going to die,” the stranger says, not really convincingly since his knuckles are turning white from gripping his seat too tightly. “The pilot says we’ve only hit a turbulence..”

“Of course they did,” Harry says manically. “They wouldn’t exactly say ‘OK folks, that’s it, you’re all dead.’” The airplane gives another terrifying lurch and Harry finds himself gripping the stranger’s hand in panic. "We're not going to make it. I know we're not. This is it. I'm twenty-five years old, for God's sake. I'm not ready to die yet. I haven't achieved anything. I've never had children, I've never saved a life…” His eyes fall randomly on a magazine the woman seated in front of him dropped on the floor and his eyes land on the cover story '30 Things To Do Before You're 30'. “I haven’t climbed a mountain, I haven’t gotten a cat tattoo like I promised my godchild, I don’t even know if I have a fucking prostate.”

“S-sorry?” the stranger stutters as he turns a slight shade of pink.

“My career’s a complete joke. I’m not a top businessman at all,” Harry continues, ignoring what the stranger is trying to say. “I’m just some shitty junior assistant who had his first ever big meeting and it was a fucking disaster. Half the time I haven't got a clue what people are talking about, I don't know what logistical means, I'm never going to get promoted, and I owe my mum four thousand pounds and I've never really been in love...”

Harry catches himself before he spills even more of his secrets. He lets go of the stranger’s soft hand and leans back in his chair. “I’m sorry, you didn’t want to hear that.”

“No, it’s perfectly okay,” he answers in a soothing voice.

Harry only nods at him and begins to count mentally to calm himself. _Twenty, twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four…_

The plane lurches again.

“I’ve never achieved something,” Harry says, words spilling out of his mouth. “Not one thing.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” the man tells him nicely.

“No, I’m serious,” Harry says, facing him with wild eyes. “I didn’t say that so you can validate me or something. It’s really true. My best achievement was winning 3rd place in a spelling bee. I mean, I graduated college, sure, but I think I had to retake a couple classes before that happened...” Harry can’t stop talking, he just can’t.

The more the plane lurches downward, the more he spills all his beans.

_“...She’s the worst, she’s bossy and she likes to always be on the spotlight so when I’m pissed at her I water her plant with orange juice...”_

 

_“...I know it’s weird but I just really love the taste of fried tomatoes...”_

 

_“...You need to check it, the clothes aren’t even half bad plus they’re really cheap and you help fund UK’s cancer research...”_

 

_“...I gave Nick’s fish all his damn goldfish food and it died anyway...”_

 

_“...It was during one of our Christmas parties. I was drunk off my ass and my ex just broke up with me so I decided to photocopy my ass in the machine to send it to him but I forgot to get the copy after...”_

 

_“...I work for the world’s most cheapass company I swear. If you taste the coffee there it’s like fucking poison...”_

 

_“...Me and this colleague of mine, Adam, have this secret code. Whenever he’d say ‘Harry, can I go over some numbers with you for a few minutes,’ what he really means is, ‘Harry can we go out of this hell hole for one minute and get some Starbucks’...”_

 

_“...I lied about my Maths GCSE grade on my CV...”_

 

_“...It was hard to look for jobs so I loaned from my mum so I can get photography lessons but it didn’t work out obviously but at least my Instagram feed is incredible...”_

 

_“...I cry whenever I hear Can’t Help Falling In Love With You by Elvis, like every time and I don’t even know why...”_

 

_“...perfect date would be champagne appearing out of nowhere as if like magic...”_

 

_“...and it sort of became a tradition that whenever Nick’s out me and Niall would sneak in his room and borrow his clothes...”_

 

_“...it came out of nowhere. I just suddenly blurted out that I love Batman and I don’t even know anything about Batman. All I know is his non superhero name is Steve Rogers.. Or was it Barry Allen?”_

 

_“...I have a glass of red wine before going out on a date to calm my nerves...”_

 

_“...Sometimes I think my dick is too big for my body...”_

 

It’s like therapy, Harry decides. The more time passes, the more his mouth spews his most guarded secrets, until all Harry can see and feel is the beautiful stranger, himself, and the jumpy airplane.

 

_“...The dream was just really weird and it was really awkward, the whole time I kept thinking that I didn’t want to hurt Niall’s feelings...”_

 

_“...Me and my Ex probably spent half the day having sex trying to see if I had a prostate or not...”_

 

_“...And I had to lie. He kept asking me what my first orgasm felt like while he was inside me and I told him it felt like a flower and he asked me what kind of flower and I said a begonia...”_

 

_“...Knight in shining armour is an unrealistic option. But there’s a part of me that wants a huge, amazing romance. I want passion. I want to be swept off my feet. I want an earthquake, or a … I don't know, a huge whirlwind … something exciting. Sometimes I feel as if there's this whole new, thrilling life waiting for me out there, and if I can just—”_

 

“Excuse me, sir?”

“What?” Harry asks, dazed. It’s Gigi, smiling down at him.

“We’ve landed,” she says in a polite voice. Harry can’t help but stare at her. _What the flying fuck?_ This doesn’t make sense to Harry at all. How the hell did they manage to land? First they were spiraling down the air and now they’ve landed? Impossible. That wasn’t part of the plan.

He sneaks a peek at the other passengers and sure enough - they’ve landed. They’re on the ground and Harry’s alive. He suddenly feels like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. First everything’s falling spiraling down, now everything’s back to normal.

“We aren’t bumping anymore,” Harry says stupidly.

“We’ve... We’ve stopped bumping quite a while ago actually,” the beautiful stranger says suddenly.

“We’re... We’re not going to die?”

“I’m afraid not,” he says kindly, his eyes twinkling.

He looks at the beautiful stranger as if for the first time - and it hits him. He’s been blabbering his mouth nonstop for an hour to this complete stranger. God only knows what he’s been saying.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says awkwardly, jumping up from his seat suddenly and making a grab for his suitcase. All he wants to do now is leave this plane. “I should’ve stopped.”

“Would have been a tiny bit difficult,” he says, also standing up. “You were on a bit of a roll there.”

Harry’s cheeks blush crimson. “I’m so embarrassed,” he says, not looking at him. Harry _can’t_ look at him. He told him about his prostate. He told all about the begonia. If only the earth could swallow him whole.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, tone still kind. “It was a pretty stressful flight.” Harry only nods at him and walks down the aisle.

“Yeah well, I guess you’re right.” Harry needs to get the fuck away from here. From him.

“Will you be OK going home?” he asks sincerely.

If this were a different scenario, Harry would have said no. He would have asked this lovely boy to take him home and have great sex with him but no, it isn’t. He just told the guy all about his sexual dream with his best friend.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Harry says, nearing the exit. “Thanks. I’ll see you around.” He doesn’t give him time to respond but Harry swears he heard a faint “I’ll see you” as soon as he rushes out the plane. 

**//**

 

It takes Harry about an hour to travel from the airport to the apartment he lives in. As soon as he opens the apartment door, he finds Niall surrounded by papers and with a look of concentration on his face. He has his phone in his hands, the screen reflecting in his glasses’ lenses. He’s probably researching one of his cases. Honestly, no lawyer in London works as hard as his best friend.

“What are you working on?” Harry asks in replacement of a greeting. “Is that the Identity Theft case?”

Niall looks up at him from his iPhone, his blue eyes shining brightly at Harry. “Hiya mate, you’re home,” he says, standing up and stretching. “And no, I’m done working. I’m just reading some stupid article,” he says as he scratches his belly. “It’s got this quiz that measures a man’s good looks or some shit.” (Probably not the _most_ hard working but still a hardworking lawyer nonetheless.)

“I know that article,” pipes in a third voice before Harry can respond. Nick comes out of his room, dressed in head to toe Gucci. He’s probably going out to party or something equally glamorous. He glances at Harry quickly and says, “You look horrible, Harold.”

“Hello to you too, Nicholas,” Harry replies dryly, slumping down on the sofa and leaning back in it. “You look rather lovely yourself.”

“I was just being honest,” he says matter-of-factly, sitting in the empty seat beside Harry and leaning down to adjust his socks. “And as I was saying about that article, it isn’t bullshit. I took it this morning while drinking my 8AM Chai Tea and I got a 194.”

“A 194?” Niall says, flabbergasted, his strong Irish drawl evident. “How in fuck’s sake did that happen?”

“Why? What did you get?” Nick asks in an unimpressed tone, sitting up straight to look at Niall predatorily.

“A 99.”

“A 99 doesn’t sound too bad,” Harry says, jumping in to save his best friend from their evil roommate. “99 sounds above average to me.” He sees Niall smile at him fondly. Ever since Niall’s girlfriend chucked him because he “isn’t the man Isabelle thought he was,” he’s been self conscious about his looks. So at any given opportunity, Harry helps in rebuilding his self confidence. And also,

12.) He’s the reason why Isabelle broke up with Niall.

It’s not what you’re thinking, he isn’t some ‘other man’ or some shit. It’s just that Isabelle is a  Class A bitch and Niall deserves so much better than her. See, Harry _may have_ convinced Isabelle to check out some colleague of his from the IT Department, who’s also a Rated A ass in Harry’s opinion, and he _may have_ pushed Isabelle into dating him and dumping Niall. Again, _may have._ It isn’t his fault that Isabelle’s an unfaithful toad who takes bait. (And in Harry’s defense, he was just protecting Niall. Best friend duties and all that.)

“Of course it sounds above average to you, Harold,” Nick scoffs, standing up from the couch and heading towards the mirror beside the door to fix his outfit. “I’m sure you’d get something as average like 79 or 80 or something.”

“Oh, sod off, Nick,” Niall says, jumping in this time to save Harry. “Don’t you have somewhere to go, like your mother’s fundraiser or something?”

“Actually,” Nick says, looking from his reflection to the two of them. “Mummy’s fundraiser was yesterday. Today’s the family dinner with Prime Minister.” He grins at them maliciously and leaves the apartment.

“I hate that man,” Niall says, still looking at the closed door. “Remind me why we need to live with him again?”

“He - I mean, his mother pays for more than half of our rent and utility bills,” Harry says, also looking at the door.

13.) Nick doesn’t know how much rent costs and Harry and Niall never bothered correcting him or returning the extra.

“Fuck,” Niall says softly, releasing a sigh of frustration. He turns to look at Harry, who’s still seated on the couch. “So, what happened to you? Nick’s right. You _do_ look like shit.”

“Cheers, Niall,” he says, moving to his right so his best friend can take the seat that Nick abandoned.

Niall laughs at that. “But no, seriously though,” he says, his laughter mixing with concern. “What gotcha down? Come on, tell Uncle Niall all about it.”

“First and foremost, I am not calling you Uncle Niall,” Harry says as he rolls his eyes at him. He leans back in the chair and kicks his shoes off. “Second of all, it’s kind of a long story.”

“We’ve got time,” Niall says. “Come on, let’s start from the beginning.”

 

“You did what?” Niall asks, his beer spilling. His raucous laugh echoes throughout the apartment walls. Harry decides that Niall cannot be trusted and that he hates him.

“Please shut up,” Harry says nonchalantly as he sips the beer Niall handed him while he was telling him what happened during his flight.

“I’m sorry, Haz,” Niall says in between his joyful laughs. “I just can’t believe you told a complete stranger all your secrets. I mean, what if he turns out to be some sort of social engineer or something? You’re fucked.” He continues laughing.

“Thanks Ni,” he says, rolling his eyes. Oh my god what if he _is_ a social engineer? No he isn’t. Social engineers aren’t good looking men in business class flights - or are they?

“If something happens to you though, I’ll bring justice to your poor corpse,” Niall says, taking a sip from his beer.

“I’ll cheers to that,” Harry says, clunking his bottle with Niall’s and gulping down the bottle till it’s empty. “I can only pray that we never see each other again, which is too bad because he was really hot.”

“I don’t care if the lad’s good looking or not,” Niall says, “I wouldn’t want that person to see my face ever again. Not even if he looks like a goddamn Versace model.”

 _He does look like a Versace model,_ Harry thinks. His thoughts trail back to the beautiful stranger on the plane and the way he attempted to calm Harry down in the most gentle way possible. The way he patted Harry’s arm using careful hands and the look of concern in his strikingly beautiful golden eyes that Harry just can’t seem to forget. How Harry wishes they met in different settings, but he guesses he isn’t the one for Harry. The universe has other plans for him.

“I guess you’re right,” Harry says quietly, not sure Niall hears him.

There’s a few more minutes of silence before Niall interrupts it. “Did you really tell him about the begonia?” he asks, snickering slightly.

Harry takes a deep sigh before answering, “Yes,” that makes Niall laugh as loud as earlier.

**//**

Harry always says that he loves Mondays.

14.) He hates Mondays.

He started proclaiming it during one of their department meetings with Jeff Azoff, their department manager. Jeff was going on about having the right mindset or some shit during the meeting. He was new at the time and it was the first department meeting he attended.

His mind was somewhere else. However, he didn’t make it obvious. It was a talent he was grateful to have. In the middle of the meeting, while Harry was in the middle of imagining the sexual stuff he and his boyfriend at the time were going to do that night, Jeff pointed his finger at Harry and asked what his mindset was like on Mondays. Out of his shock at being called and his eagerness to please their department head, he (out of his stupidity) said he loved them and he doesn’t know why people hated them.

Jeff was impressed by Harry’s answer but everyone else doubted him. He even heard some of his colleagues saying that Harry’s just showing off because he’s new.

Harry was determined to prove everyone wrong so ever since that fateful day he would, without fail, act happier than he normally would on Mondays. He’d be that guy who comes into work early with his favorite drink at hand, greeting everyone good morning. He’d be that guy Harry himself would hate.

At first people thought that it was just an act but thanks to his consistency and Niall’s highly effective energy drinks and energy bars, his colleagues started thinking that Harry was actually sincere and that he actually loves Mondays a few weeks later.

It’s been going on ever since that meeting. He attempted to drop the act one time but as soon as the elevator doors opened and he was on the marketing department’s production floor, Jeff waved at him enthusiastically when Harry passed by the office with a big grin on his face. Harry had no choice but to smile back at him and skip steps while going to his work station.

This Monday, Harry’s finding it hard to play pretend, the incident in Glasgow taunting his head. He paced back and forth outside their building thinking of what to tell Liam for a good twenty minutes before he decided to go in.

_Liam, before you say anything, I just want you to know that I tried, I really did. I almost had him convinced if only that stupid sports drink didn’t explode all over his dress shirt. Please forgive me. I swear it won’t happen again next time. Please promote me._

As soon as he enters the building lobby, he notices change. Everything’s cleaner than usual. The usually dirty floor is now squeaky and sparkly clean, the paintings are straightened, the cobwebs are gone, even the security officer’s uniform looks like it got introduced to an iron.

He was about to ask Carrie, the receptionist, why everything looks like that when Gary, one of the Senior Marketing Executives, emerges from the elevators and calls his name.

“Harry,” he calls.

“Hey Gary,” Harry says, with his usually happy Monday smile. “Good Morning!”

“Good Morning!” he says back, adjusting his suit and tie. “Big day, huh?”

Harry only raises his eyebrows at him but he doesn’t ask why, not wanting to give the impression that he doesn’t know anything. “Yeah, I guess,” he says.

Gary looks at him, appalled. “You guess?” he says, shaking his head. “Alright. I suppose it’s not that big of a deal. Anyway, Liam’s been looking for you.”

“Oh,” Harry says, his smile dropping. “He is?”

“Yeah,” Gary says, “heard you went to Glasgow to close that deal with ACR last weekend, maybe it’s because of that.”

Harry gulps. “Oh yeah,” he says, hoping to sound unperturbed. “Maybe so.”

“You better get to it then,” Gary says, walking backwards to the exit. “He kinda looks anxious upstairs. Everyone is, on account of today’s event.”

“Yeah, I should,” he says, waving at Gary as he goes out the building, probably rushing to get some coffee at the Starbucks beside the office.

He goes inside the elevator, greeting a couple of people from Designs good morning in what he hopes is a happy tone, and recites his apology inside his head.

_Liam, before you say anything, I just want you to know that I tried, I really did. I almost had him convinced if only that stupid sports drink didn’t explode all over his dress shirt. Please forgive me. I swear it won’t happen again next time. Please promote me_

The elevator doors open and everyone’s unusually busy clearing and organizing their respective desks. He sees Camille at her desk applying some makeup, and that’s not something she does on a regular basis, only when something big is happening. Mitch and Sara are in the copying room shredding five years worth of useless papers. Liam’s in his office organizing the chairs.

As soon as he gets to his desk, he even clears some of the papers himself while he waits for his slow computer to load.

“Harry,” Camille says, with only one eyebrow done. “Would you be a dear for me and water my spider plant? Thank you.” She heads back to her desk before Harry could oblige.

As soon as his computer loads and as soon as he clocks in, he heads towards the pantry and fills Camille’s watering can with orange juice.

“Harry!” someone says from behind him, Harry nearly dropping the can and its contents to the floor.

“Fucking shit,” Harry says exasperatedly, hand on his chest. “Liam, you scared me.”

“Oops, sorry,” he says as he combs his hair frantically. “It’s been a hell of a busy morning today. Honestly, I don’t know why you’re so cool about all of this.”

“Well, it’s all in the proper mindset, Li,” Harry says, bullshitting.

“I know you love Mondays, Harry,” Liam says, eyes a bit wide. “But honestly though, you can freak out on this specific Monday on account of all the events...” He goes and pours himself a cup of coffee as he continues to comb his hair.

“Oh which reminds me,” he continues, turning his gaze from the cup to Harry. “So, Glasgow...”

All the color in Harry’s cheeks disappear at the sound of that. It’s now or never. Liam’s probably just breaking it to him easy. “Liam, before you say anything, I just want you to know that I tried, I really did. I almost had him convinced if only that stupid sports drink didn’t explode all over his dress shirt.”

Liam stops combing his hair and stares at Harry with wide eyes. “You what?” he asks, mouth open.

“Please forgive me,” Harry continues. “I swear it won’t happen again next time.  Please promote me.”

“Promote-” Liam guffaws, looking at everywhere except Harry. “Harry, you do realize that Zayn Malik is coming for a visit and that deal was the cherry on top of our presentation when he joins our department meeting next week do you?”

“Wait, what? Come again?” Harry asks, eyes widening in horror. “Z-Zayn Malik is visiting?” _Oh fucking no._

“You- you didn’t know?” Liam asks, flabbergasted. “Jeff sent an email blast about it last weekend, how can you - Ugh, nevermind. Just- just fix your desk Harry. We’ll talk later. I have to call Lance and do some damage control.” He takes his cup of coffee and heads to the exit, leaving Harry alone in the pantry with his watering can filled with orange juice.

In the world of Mystery Machine Corporations, saying Zayn Malik is visiting is like saying the Pope’s visiting, or Father Christmas. He invented Mystery Soda. Harry knows all this because he once spent the whole two weeks typing a blurb about it approximately a million times. ‘It was in 2013 when young, dynamic business partners Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson bought up the ailing Refresh soft-drinks company, repackaged Fresh Cola as Mystery Cola, invented the slogan ‘Stay Lowkey’ and thus made marketing history.’

No wonder everyone is ticking out. Which reminds Harry - he himself should start ticking out.

“Harry!” Camille’s annoying voice rings, Harry nearly dropping the watering can again. “Zayn Malik will be here in ten minutes. Water the plant already, sheesh.”

“Be there in a second,” Harry says, heading towards the sink to drain the contents of the watering can, and begins to fill the can with shitty coffee.

 **//**  

The whole place is in turmoil. People are scurrying about and one of the people from maintenance is polishing the already-shiny brass banister, while another one’s polishing the fake plants.

Harry together with Liam are pushing their way through the crowd of people, making sure to get a good spot so they can get a glimpse of their young CEO.

“So,” Harry starts as soon as he and Liam get good spots near the stairs. “Why is Zayn Malik visiting?”

Liam gives him an unimpressed look but answers anyway, “According to Jeff’s email, he wants to get a look around the UK operation.”

“I thought he wasn’t active in the business anymore,” Harry says, agog. His eyes drifting from the entrance to Liam. “I mean, ever since Louis Tomlinson died he was grief-stricken and reclusive. On his farm or whatever it is...”

“That was five years ago,” Mitch says from behind him and Liam, butting in on their conversation. “He’s obviously feeling better.”

“Maybe he wants to sell us off,” Gary says from beside Liam, also butting in.

“Why would he do that?” Liam asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“My theory,” Harry begins to say quietly, making Liam, Mitch and Gary bend their heads to listen to him, “is he wants to see if our fake plants are shiny enough.” he nods his head towards the poor guy from maintenance being yelled at by Simon, the Workplace Manager.

“Be careful,” Simon snaps at the guy, “don’t damage the stems.” The three of them snicker at him gleefully.

“So what time do you think he’s arriving?” Harry asks, giving his colleagues a curious look.

“In about five minutes,” Jeff says, cutting in between Liam and Harry and putting an arm around both of their necks. “Isn’t this exciting fellows?”

“Very,” Harry answers a little too eagerly.

“That’s the spirit,” Jeff says, beaming at him. “Oh and look,” he says, pointing at the impressive BMW stopping right in front of the glass doors. “That must be him.”

As if by clockwork, the doors to the lift open and out comes Mike Hilton, chief executive plus the managing director and seven others, all looking powerful in their dark suits.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Jeff says, patting Harry on the back. “Wish me luck, lads.” Without waiting for a response,  he goes into the growing crowd and pushes his way through to join the gang of managers heading towards the BMW.

Harry, Liam and Mitch stand on their tiptoes, like ogling children. As soon as the passenger door opens, a black man comes out with long, beautiful dreadlocks, wearing a pristine white suit. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and is carrying a very expensive-looking briefcase.

Basically, he looks like a billion dollars.

Mike Hilton together with the others including Jeff are lined up by the steps, eagerly waiting for their turn to shake his hand.

“Welcome to Mystery Machine Corporations UK,” Mike Hilton says. He hears Zayn Malik say thank you in a thick american accent. _Hmm. I thought he and Louis Tomlinson were both British?_ Mike ushers the handsome black man inside the building.

“Alright,” Simon says with his booming voice, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Head to your respective departments right now!”

A couple of people - Harry, Liam and Mitch included - retort at his order, but thanks to Simon’s intimidating stare, they all stop immediately and pile in a line to head to the lifts.

Harry sneaks a final look at the crowd of powerful people by the entrance and notices someone else with Zayn Malik. He doesn’t get the chance to take a look at his face because just when he was about to face the lifts, the elevator door closes.

“Did you see that guy with Zayn Malik?” Harry asks Liam as soon as the elevator begins to ascend. “Who is he?”

“I believe his name’s Griff,” Liam informs him. “He’s supposed to be Zayn Malik’s bodyguard.”

“Him?” Harry asks in an unbelieving tone. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. “He’s supposed to be the best of the best. That Griff fellow.”

“Guess I didn’t expect Zayn Malik to hire some scrawny guy as his bodyguard,” Harry says with a shrug. “Looks can be deceiving, I guess.”

**//**

“Tell me one more time what happened at ACR,” Liam says in a strained voice, massaging his temples. “Like what exactly did he say and what happened next.”

As soon as they restart their computers and pull up their projects for the day, Liam asks Harry to head into his office to discuss the..o incident that happened in Glasgow. It’s nearly lunchtime and Harry’s already told Liam fifty versions of what transpired in that eventful meeting.

“I was just trying to demonstrate the many fine qualities of Mystery Cola to Lance Ho and it.. It kind of exploded,” Harry says again.

“How?” Liam asks with a calculating look on his face. “How did that happen? Mystery Cola doesn’t explode!”

Harry only gives him a conflicted look and shrugs. “I don’t know, Liam,” he says in an exasperated tone. “I told you, maybe I shook it too many times.”

“But that doesn’t explain why-”

“I told you, I don’t know,” Harry says again, agitated. “Even I’m wondering how.”

“I need to report this to Lab,” Liam says to himself as he scratches his chin, a look of concentration in his face. “It isn’t supposed to do that.” He goes towards his text and starts to compose an email.

“Can I go now?” Liam only nods his head instead of answering like a polite human being. Harry, instead of leaving like he said he was, lingers inside Liam’s office, thinking of a strategy to ask him but Liam cancels his plans for him.

“Anything else you need from me, Haz?” Liam asks, eyes not leaving his computer screen, typing on his computer frantically.

“Y-yeah,” Harry begins, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I just- I was just wondering when my appraisal will be.”

That gets Liam to stop from typing and switch his gaze from the computer’s monitor to Harry. “Appraisal?” he repeats, a hint of confusion in his tone. “Uhm, Harry, in case you haven’t noticed Zayn Malik is visiting us today and not to mention that incident at ACR..”

“Okay,” Harry says, cutting him off. “I understand, it’s fine. Maybe another day.”

Liam smiles at him kindly and concentrates on his email. “Go and tidy your desk,” he says bossily. “Oh and Harry?”

Harry turns around to face Liam, his eyes hopeful. “Yeah?”

“If you spill fucking Mystery Energy Drink on Zayn Malik you’re fired, okay?” he says in a calm yet serious tone. Harry only gulps and nods his head at him.

As soon as Harry’s a few steps away from his desk, Simon comes into the room looking hassled. It’s as if he ran all the way up from the ground floor to the 6th floor where the Marketing department is at. He actually probably did.

“A-attention,” he says, out of breath. Clapping his hands in command to get everyone’s attention in the room. “Attention! I just wanted to tell you all Zayn Malik is coming in for an informal visit,” he says, making everyone look lowkey panic-stricken. “He’s just gonna come here, maybe talk to one or two of you. I want you all to act normal yet at your best standard.”

The whispering inside the room intensifies, making Simon clap his hands again in irritation. “Your attention please,” he says sternly. “Now, if he talks to any one of you, just act normal yet pleasant. The rest of you can do something productive like pretend to brainstorm, type on your computers, anything,” he says, looking at each person in the room. “Just act normal, okay? Can I get everyone’s commitment?”

“Yes,” everyone echoes.

“Good,” he says, nodding his head. “Remember the marketing department is the hub of the department. Mystery Machines is dubbed for it’s marketing excellence so… what the hell is that?” he says, pointing at a neat stack of papers in Gary’s desk.

“That’s um... That’s the new artwork for the...” Gary begins to say.

“Clean it up!” Simon says, not letting him finish. “He’ll be here any minute now. Go!” he commands, snapping his fingers at those looking dumbly at him and leaves the room.

Everyone immediately heads to their desk to do some last minute cleaning, Harry included.

15.) He’s a slob.

Harry’s desk is a complete mess, probably because Camille dumped all her shit there while he was in Liam’s office. Fucking Camille. He opens one of the desk drawers and sweeps everything inside, and hastily begins to tidy the scattered pens across his desk.

At the desk beside him where Camille’s redoing her lipstick for probably the hundredth time, Harry hears her tell Claire how inspiring it’d be to meet him and all that.

“Where did you get that top, Harry?” he hears Sarah ask as she passes his desk to head to hers.

“Uh, Gucci,” he lies, concentrating on tidying his desk.

“I was at Gucci the other day and I didn’t see that design,” Camille states with an eyebrow raised.

“They’d probably be sold out,” Harry says with a fake shrug, continuing to clear his desk.

“What do you think we should call him?” Claire asks the two of them, sitting on Camille’s desk. “Should we call him Mr Malik or Zayn or what?”

Harry zones out of their conversation, continuing to clear his desk. Zayn Malik should not see this.

“...I just need ten minutes with him. Just ten...”

“...Do you think he’ll work on getting a gym at the office...”

“...He’s really gorgeous...”

The air of excitement in the department is infectious, it makes Harry grab a comb from one of his desk and tame his hair. What would he do if he had ten minutes with Zayn Malik? Will he ask for a raise or request for a gym? Will he see potential in him or pull Harry out from the crowd? Or will he just talk to Harry about random stuff like the weather or something? He thinks about it for a minute before deciding that talking about the weather is safe.

“Everyone!” Jeff says, appearing inside the room. “He’ll be here in a second. Go do your everyday task! He’s heading to admin first! Come on. Now!”

_Fuck. What’s my everyday task?_

Harry immediately picks up the phone and dials Niall’s number. It rings three times before Harry realizes that everyone else is doing the exact same thing.

_We can’t all be on the fucking phone. This is so stupid!_

He hangs up the phone and decides to boot up his computer instead. That’s his everyday task. Booting up the computer. Yeah. This is good.

As he wait for his extremely slow computer to load, footsteps from outside the office are getting louder and louder by the second. It makes Harry a little more nervous.

“Come on, come on,” Harry mutters as he clicks his mouse frantically.

_Oh fucking great. Zayn Malik will arrive and Harry’s going to be staring at his blank computer like a moron. Amazing._

The footsteps are getting louder and Harry can see their shadows by the entrance.

“I think the whole essence of it is Vitality,” Camille says in a loud voice, pretending to speak to Mitch. “Don’t you agree?”

“Uh, yeah,” Mitch says dumbly, his gaze switching from Camille to the entrance. “I mean, in a modern marketing environment, I think we need to be looking at a … um … fusion of strategy and a forward-thinking vision. Yeah?”

Harry rolls his eyes at them and decides to get some coffee instead. (Nothing more natural than that right?)

“I’m just gonna go get some coffee,” Harry announces self-consciously, standing up.

“Oh, could you get me one too? Thank you,” Camille says, facing Mitch back again. “So back to that concept..”

_Does your plant want one too?_

The pantry is located near the entrance of the department, in a small alcove. As he waits for the coffee machine to make (disgusting) coffee, he tries to sneak a peek at Zayn Malik but all the other big bosses are surrounding him, making it impossible for Harry to get even a glimpse of his pretty dreads.

Jeff turns around and leads the group towards the entrance.

_Oh fuck! He’s coming!_

_Wait. Keep it cool. Just wait for the machine to load. Play it cool. Keep it natural._

He hears Jeff introduce Zayn Malik to the rest of the department as Harry waits for Camille’s cup to load. Fucking Camille. That plant _might_ just get a taste of alcohol one of these days.

As soon as the second cup of coffee fills up, he turns around to go back to his desk but is stopped because there he is! Zayn Malik in his pristine white suit and black sunglasses.

Harry stares at him, mouth dangling slightly open.

“Isn’t he gorgeous,” Claire asks, appearing beside Harry and also checking Zayn Malik out from head to toe. “I have to say, Zayn Malik has excellent taste in bodyguards.”

_Wait what?_

“What are you talking-”

A familiar voice makes Harry stop speaking. A familiar gentle voice. “It’s really nice to meet everybody,” it says, “I wish I visited more but better late than never, yeah?” Everyone except for Harry laughs at that.

“Claire,” Harry says, trying to stand on his tippy toes to get a glimpse at the voice. “Who’s the guy talking?”

“What do you mean who’s the guy talking?” she says, raising an eyebrow at him. “It’s Zayn Malik. Who else?”

 _What?!_ “Wait,” Harry says, looking at her confusedly. “I-Isn’t the man in the pristine white suit Zayn Malik?”

Claire gives him a bewildered look. “That’s his bodyguard, Griff” Claire says, shaking his head at him. “That,” she continues, pointing at the man talking, “is Zayn Malik.”

“You’ll see more of me,” Zayn Malik says, beaming at the crowd. “Louis was the Marketing expert between us two and he always told me to visit so I could learn a thing or two so that’s what I’ll do...” A few of the managers surrounding him move, giving Harry the opportunity to get a look at the back of his head.

_Oh fuck._

_Could this be?_

_Oh fucking fuck. Please no._

Zayn Malik turns around and Harry’s jaw drop down to the ground. It’s him. It’s really fucking him.

All the color in Harry’s face disappear and he begins to sweat. He decides then and there that the universe hates him, that the great big thing he’s been waiting for to happen is this moment. The moment he realizes that Zayn Malik is the guy from the airplane, the guy who knows all his secrets. Fucking shit.

“Are you okay?” Claire asks, a concerned look on her face. “You don’t look too good, babe. Have you eaten yet?”

Relax. Zayn Malik takes thousands and thousands of flights all over the world, all the time. He probably doesn’t remember anything. Heck, he won’t even remember what he looks like.

“I’m good,” Harry says, releasing a deep breath. Nodding more to himself than at Claire.

“Are you sure?” she asks, unconvinced. “You look like a thin sheet of paper, Harry. Let’s go back to your desk.”

They walk back towards his desk, Harry making sure to keep his head bowed down to avoid being sighted. His mission will be to avoid Zayn Malik for the rest of his stay in London. He’ll ask Liam for leave of absence or something.

“Please,” he hears Zayn Malik say, “don’t mind me. Just go do your thing, I won’t be a bother.” At that he begins to walk around the floor, Jeff’s beside him introducing him to everyone they pass by.

As Zayn Malik roams around the floor, shaking everyone’s hand, Harry goes and pulls up an old file Camille sent him ages ago from his email. She asked Harry to read and rewrite everything so they could use it for an event they were hosting in a few months. Harry found it boring and useless at first but now he sees it as his most important task.

He starts to read the document Camille sent. Apparently it’s about the benefits of some fruit they were going to use as a main ingredient for Mystery’s new product. It’s the dullest job he’s received from Camille but he remains laser focused on completing the task until he hears faint footsteps behind him.

_Please.. Please don’t come here. I beg of you. Please don’t._

“Oh my god,” he hears Camille say quietly from the desk beside his. “They’re coming! Come on, Mitch. Let’s talk logistics.”

Harry gulps at that. What if Zayn Malik remembers him and asks him what logistics mean? No. Relax. He won’t do that. At least, he hopes he won't.

“Here they are,” Camille says urgently, turning to face Mitch to talk about fucking logistics out of all topics.

“And here we have Camille Rowe and Mitch Rowland,” he hears Jeff say, “two of our Senior Marketing Executives.”

Harry sees Camille shake Zayn Malik’s hand eagerly from the corner of his eyes.

“It’s a real pleasure to meet Mystery Machine’s founding father,” Camille says smugly, still shaking Zayn Malik’s hand.

“Please,” he hears Zayn’s gentle voice say, “the pleasure is all mine. Jeff’s told me all about the projects the two of you came up with. I just wanted to thank you for the hard work.”

“The-” Mitch starts to say.

“All in day’s work, sir,” Camille says, “I actually want to tell you all about...”

Harry zones out after that. He’s had enough of Camille’s ass kissing. He puts on his earphones and continues to do his work. Hoping and praying that Jeff’s only introducing their boss to important people.

This is going to be fine, Harry convinces himself. For the first time since entering the Marketing floor, he’s glad he’s just some Junior Marketing Executive. Harry decides that it was a way of the universe from protecting him from embarrassment. That the universe doesn’t hate him _that_ much.

_Thanks, Universe._

He continues to type words into Word, adding some funny puns here and there to make it a little more lighter to read and funny. Again, Harry’s glad he’s just some laylow assistant.

He was on his next paragraph when someone pulls his earphones out. “Harry!” Jeff says in a slightly high pitch tone.

Harry turns around and is a bit shocked to see the managers, including Zayn Malik staring at him patiently.

_No. I take that back. The universe does hate him alright._

“Y-yeah?” he says dumbly, trying to look anywhere but at the direction of their handsome CEO.

“I was just telling Zayn Malik about your enthusiasm when it comes to Mondays so I thought I’d introduce you real quick.”

Jeff winks at him discreetly. Probably happy with himself that he’s given Harry this opportunity. If only he knew how much Harry would like to be eaten in whole by a banana or some shit.

“Uh yeah,” he says, turning to face the group. He gives them an awkward grin and reaches out to shake each of their hands.

_Maybe he won’t recognize me. Maybe he won’t remember. Maybe-_

When he’s about to go and shake Zayn Malik’s hand for last, he notices that Zayn has a look of recognition in his face. Almost as if he recognizes Harry.

 _Fuck_.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” Harry says, hot with embarrassment, shaking Zayn Malik’s soft hand. The look on his face is still there.

_OK, so he recognizes me. But that doesn't necessarily mean he remembers anything I said. A few random comments thrown out by a person in the next-door seat. Who's going to remember that? Maybe he wasn't even listening._

“You too, Mr Styles,” he says with a small smile. “And what do you do?”

“I, um, assist the marketing department and help rewrite documents and stuff,” Harry mumbles, not making eye contact.

“Harry was in Glasgow last week on a business trip,” Jeff says proudly at Zayn, making Harry widen his eyes at him in horror. “We believe in giving our junior staff responsibility as soon as possible.”

“Sounds good,” Zayn Malik says, his eyes gazing over Harry’s seemingly-neat desk and his eyes twinkle at the sight of the cup of warm coffee sitting there.

He looks up and meets Harry’s eyes. “How’s the coffee?” he asks pleasantly. “Tasty?”

_“...I swear. If you taste the coffee there it’s like fucking poison…”_

It takes a while before Harry collects himself.

_Is this a fucking test?!_

“Um,” Harry starts, from behind Zayn is Liam giving him a threatening look. It makes Harry gulp. “It- It’s great.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” he says, the spark of amusement in his eyes making Harry blush crimson. _Fuck. He remembers. He fucking remembers. No. Calm Down. You’re overreacting. Maybe it was just a coincidence or something._

Zayn Malik scans the surroundings and Camille’s desk catches his attention.

_“...Camille is such a brat. New desks came in and she took one even though she knows that mine’s busted and she didn’t even give me her old one…”_

“Camille?” he says, sounding a bit unsure.

“Y-yes, Mr Malik?” Camille says, eyes lighting up, probably shitting her pants at the idea of Zayn Malik remembering her name.

“I like your desk,” he tells her, but his eyes catch Harry’s for a second. “Is it new?”

Her eyes widen slightly at that. She stutters herself before saying, “Yes sir, there was a spare one after they decorated the lobby outside so I thought I’d ask for it since mine’s getting old.”

“Ah,” Zayn says, nodding his head. He walks over to her plant and studies it. “Is this a spider plant?”

“Yes, sir.”

He picks up the plant and smells it. “Mmm,” he says after exhaling, “It smells a bit... Citrusy.” Harry stares at him in horror as he sniffs Camille’s plant with so much gusto.

_He remembers everything! Oh my fucking god._

Harry racks his brain, trying to remember what else he told him. Something he shouldn’t have told anyone. Till it hits him..

_“...I know I shouldn’t have done it but I badly needed the job…”_

His eyes widen at the realization. He told his boss about faking his grade. That’s it. He’s dead. His career’s over. He’s a dead man.

Zayn Malik is going to fire him and Harry’s going to get a record of being dishonest and no one will ever employ him ever again. And he’ll end up on a UK’s Worst Job documentary, clearing cow shit and saying, “It’s not too bad” at the camera brightly.

He breathes in and out. OK. Calm down. Don’t panic. There must be something Harry can do to fix this. He’ll apologize. He’ll say it was an error of judgment that he deeply regrets and that he never meant to mislead his company. Or, Harry’ll just say, _‘Oh, I did get an A in my maths. Silly me!’_ and forge a GCSE certificate and fake the signature. He’ll never know.

No. He’s going to fire him. He’s going to find out he lied again.

Harry makes an involuntary sound that makes Zayn, Camille, the group of managers - including Jeff, Liam, Claire and Mitch - give him an odd look.

“Well, I’d just like to say that it was all nice meeting you. I’ll be staying here for a few days and I hope to get to know you all better,” Zayn Malik tells the quiet office, after his weird conversation about plants with Camille. “As you all know, Louis Tomlinson was the one who opened the UK operations so this site is very important to me.”

A sympathetic murmur goes around the office. Zayn Malik waves at the office a final time and leaves the office, together with his gang of top executives. There’s silence in the room till they hear the elevator door shut close then an excited babble breaks out.

_“...He talked to me. He actually talked to me…”_

_“...I swear he was checking me out!...”_

_“...He actually remembered my name…”_

Harry on the other hand, drops down on his chair and sags in relief. _Thank God. That was a close one._

He’s a moron, Harry decides as he breathes in and out. What was he thinking? Zayn Malik is a highly reputable person who’s busy as can be. Like, what was he thinking that Zayn Malik, CEO of Mystery Machine Corp, would remember? Spend time and effort in remembering Harry, a lowly junior assistant, every worthless secret he’s told him.

Harry celebrates by closing the document Camille asked him to make without saving it.

“Harry,” Jeff says with a stern look, approaching him. “Zayn Malik would like to see you.”

Harry’s eyes widen in horror. “Wha-what?” he stutters, the smile on his face disappearing. “Me?”

“Yes,” he says with an empathetic smile. “You. C’mon, he’s waiting for you in the meeting room on the tenth floor.”

“Did he say why?” he asks Jeff, standing up.

“Nope,” Jeff says with a shrug, before striding off to go to his office.

 _This is it_ , Harry thinks as he stares at his dark computer monitor. Harry’s going to lose his job because of one little comment. Why did he have to get upgraded? Why did he have to open his big mouth? Why universe?

He starts thinking of cow poop waiting to be picked up in a random farm far away from civilization. Harry could cry.

“Why does Zayn Malik want to see you?” Camille asks, her eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know,” Harry says, standing up and adjusting his clothes.

“Is he meeting anyone else?”

“I don’t know,” Harry says again and before Camille can pester him with more questions, he begins his walk towards the elevator. He sees a few of his colleagues gape at him in wonder. If they only knew why.

 _I can’t lose this job,_ Harry tells himself mentally. _I can’t ruin another career._ _He can’t fire me - well, he can but.. It’s unfair. If I only knew that he was my employer I wouldn’t have opened my mouth._

The doors to the elevator open and he clicks the button to the tenth floor. He leans back against one of the walls and tries to chill, but not even the soothing elevator music is helping.

 _I’m not going to let him fire me. I’m not gonna lose this career_ , Harry tries to tell himself. As soon as the door to the elevator opens, he strides towards the meeting room where Zayn Malik is waiting and knocks.

He’s trying to control his breathing when he hears a gentle, “Come in,” from the inside of the room. Harry pushes the door open and finds Zayn Malik sitting on a chair at the conference table, scribbling something in his expensive-looking notebook with a laptop open. It looks as though this is his temporary office.

He looks up with a grave expression in his face when hears Harry clear his throat.

“Hi,” he says, his long eyelashes batting, “we need to talk about something. Would you mind closing the door?”

Harry does what he’s told and faces his boss. _This is it. It’s now or never. You got this._ “I’m aware that we do, Mr. Malik,” Harry says, sounding calm.

“Please call me Zayn,” Zayn says, standing up from his chair and walking around the table to lean back on it. God, he looks like a Versace model.

“Alright Zayn,” Harry starts, “before you say anything, I just want to say my piece first.”

For a moment, he looks taken aback and raises his eyebrows at him. “Uh yeah, sure,” he says, hands inside his pockets.

Harry walks further inside the room and takes a deep breath. “Mr Malik, I know what you want to see me about. I know it was wrong. It was an error of judgement which I deeply regret,” he rambles, Zayn’s eyebrows only rising. “I’m extremely sorry, and it will never happen again but in my defense, I had no idea who you were at that plane ride and I don’t believe I should be penalized for what was a genuine, honest mistake.”

There’s a long pause before Zayn starts to talk, “You- you think I’m penalizing you?” he asks with a slight frown.

He’s callous for a successful man, Harry decided. “Y-yes?” he answers, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, I- I never would have mentioned my CV if I knew who you were. It was like a.. Trap!”

“Ah!” Zayn says, the furrow in his brow clearing. “The A grade on your resume!” He gives Harry a penetrating look and adds, “I mean the fake A grade.”

Hearing the words out loud makes Harry close his mouth shut. He can feel his face getting hotter and hotter by the second.

“You know,” Zayn says, “a lot of people would call that fraud.”

“I-I know they would,” Harry says, trying to find his confidence. “I-I know it was wrong but it doesn’t affect the way I do my job! It doesn’t mean anything, I promise.”

“You sure?” he asks, amused. “I don’t know.. Going from a C to an A is a high jump don’t you think? I mean, what if we need you to do some maths?”

“I can do maths,” Harry says desperately, “go on, ask me a maths question. Ask me anything.”

“Okay,” he says, his mouth twitching. “Eight times nine.”

Harry stares at him, his heart pounding. Eight times nine. Fuck. What’s eight times nine?  Eight times ten is eighty so eight times nine must be...

“Very good,” he says politely, he gestures towards one of the empty chairs. “Now are you finished with what you wanted to say or is there more?”

Harry rubs his face confusedly as he sits down on the chair Zayn Malik pointed at. “You’re... You’re not going to fire me?”

“No,” he says mildly, taking the seat opposite Harry. “I’m

“Seventy two!” Harry cries as soon as he’s done mentally computing. He sees Zayn give him a smile. ”I mean,” he says, collecting himself. “The answer is seventy two.”not going to fire you.”

Harry starts to get suspicious. “Was...” he says, clearing his throat. “Was my CV what you wanted to see me about?”

“No,” he says, face clear of any emotion. “That wasn’t what I wanted to see you about.”

Harry wants to die. He wants to die right here, right now.

“Right,” Harry says, soothing his hair back, trying to regain his composure and look professional and business like. “Right. Well, uh, what did you want to see me about?”

“I have a small favour to ask you to be honest,” he says.

“Oh okay, sure,” Harry asks, hopeful. “Anything! What is it?”

“For a lot of reasons,” Zayn starts to say slowly, “I would really like it if nobody knows that I was in Scotland last week.” He meets Harry’s eyes and adds, “So I would like it very much if we could keep our little meeting to ourselves.”

 _Oh._ “Okay,” Harry says after a pause, nodding his head eagerly. “Of course. I can absolutely do that. “

“Have you told anyone yet?” he asks, sounding relieved.

Harry shakes his head. “No, not one. Didn’t get the chance to have a proper conversation yet.”

“Good,” Zayn says, nodding his head at him. “Thank you very much, Harry. I appreciate it.” He smiles and gets up to open the door for him. “It was nice meeting you again, Harry. I’m sure we’ll see more of each other.”

“That’s it?” Harry asks, standing up nonetheless. “It’s over?”

“Yeah,” he says, “that’s it, unless you have anything else to say.”

“No,” Harry says hurriedly, half jogging to the exit. What was he thinking? As if Zayn Malik would sign him up for some sort of international project or something.

He’s already outside the meeting room before turning around, “Oh, wait,” he says, making Zayn turn around to face him again.

“Yeah?”

“Everyone’s going to ask what we talked about so what should I say?” Harry asks awkwardly.

“Hmm,” Zayn says, scratching his neck. “Tell them... We were talking about logistics.” He winks at Harry one more time and closes the door shut.

Fuck his life.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When I worked in an office,” he continues, his voice laced with passion, “me and my colleagues would talk about everything ,” he says, gesturing using his hands. “Movies, who slept with who, tv shows, politics, books... For instance, what have you been reading recently?”
> 
> “The Art of War,” Camille volunteers, her nose up in the air.
> 
> “Great!” Zayn says encouragingly. “What about the others?”
> 
> “I’m re-reading the Harry Potter books.”
> 
> “There’s this new John Green Book.”
> 
> The volume of the chatter within the office increases and Harry could do nothing but doodle a fox jumping over a lazy dog in his notepad.
> 
> “What about you, um, Harry?” he hears someone ask.
> 
> His eyes widen in panic at Zayn’s question.
> 
> “...I’m in this book club Claire, one of my close colleagues, hosts every week and I don’t read the books she asks us to. Just the summaries at the back...”
> 
> Zayn looks at him, a mix of mischief in his eyes. If he weren’t Harry’s super mega big boss, he would've kicked him in the crotch on the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter.  
> Thank you for those who left kudos and comments, I'm really flattered with all the good feedback! (Keep em' coming. Lol)  
> Anyway, here's chapter two as promised.  
> Chapter 3 will be posted next week.

For the rest of the day, there’s a festive atmosphere at work, but all Harry did was sit there and wonder what had happened to his life.

Zayn Malik was a stranger. He was _supposed_ to be a stranger. The whole point about strangers is that they disappear in the ether, never to be seen again. Not turn up at the office. Not turn up as your mega-boss employer. Not turn up and ask you what eight times nine is.

As he travels home from work that night, Harry’s heart is pounding at the injustice of it all. His mum’s right. You should never talk to strangers. Harry’s never speaking to a stranger again.

He can see his apartment building already as he walks on the pavement with his hands inside his pockets.

The moon is shining brightly tonight as Harry walks into a juice bar where he usually goes to before heading home. He’s gotten this habit of ordering a kale smoothie instead of a chocolate one because he wants to (sort of) start a diet and also because a very cute guy works behind the counter by the name of Shawn.

“Hey Harry,” Shawn says with a bright smile as Harry enters the shop. “How’s the kickboxing going?”

16.) He’s pretending to kickbox.

Whenever Shawn isn’t working in the juice bar, he’s out doing a course on Sports Science and is always telling Harry stuff about essential minerals and what your carb intake should be. He also recommended that he should try kickboxing to help strengthen his weak ankles or something.

Ever since then, out of his need to please the handsome boy, he said he took a couple classes and is really enjoying them. Shawn made a habit of teaching Harry some moves he could use on his next class.

“Uh,” Harry says, blushing slightly. “Yeah, it’s going great, thanks.”

“Did you try the maneuver I taught you last week?” Shawn asks as he grabs an empty cup and writes Harry’s name on it.

“Uh yeah,” Harry lies. “Yeah, it really helped me alot. Thanks!”

“Yeah, I thought it would,” Shawn says brightly before he goes to make Harry’s coffee.

Harry wanted to give up the act as soon as he started it, but he just couldn’t help but watch Shawn flex his muscles as he tried to show him some new moves he learned during his sessions. And to be fair, Harry did try and take a class once at the local leisure centre but he just didn’t realize that kickboxing could be very... violent. He couldn’t help but quit after the first session.

He also doesn’t have the heart to tell Shawn the truth because aside from Shawn’s nice arms, he seems genuinely enthused at Harry’s fake hobby so he just can’t help but go with the flow. It’s not like they meet outside the coffee shop or anything...

“One kale smoothie,” Shawn says, serving Harry’s drink.

“Oh,” Harry says, taking out a few cents from his pockets. “And one brownie.” Shawn watches him with one eyebrow raised and before he blows his cover he adds a quick, “For a roommate.”

Shawn quickly gets a brownie and drops it in a small paper bag.

“Thanks,” Harry says, taking the drink and bag from him.

“You know, Harry,” Shawn says, his eyebrows furrowed. “Your roommate needs to ease up on the brownies. I mean, think of the refined sugars!” he says, eyes wide in horror. “They’ve had- what? 5 brownies already this week.”

“I know,” Harry says, nodding at him. “That’s why I’ve limited them to only one for tonight.”

“You’re a catch, Harry,” he says with a boyish smile, making Harry redden. “Anyway, I hope you have a good night and don’t forget! One-two-swivel,” he finishes, flexing his arms as he does one of his kickboxing moves.

“Yeah yeah,” Harry says, “one two swivel. Thanks Shawn!”

As he’s about to cross the street once he’s out of the juice bar, he sees a magazine with Zayn Malik on the cover, along with a man with blue eyes and brown hair, which Harry guesses is Louis Tomlinson. The caption ‘the tale of two brothers’ is printed there also.

Harry buys it and reads as he continues his walk home. Basically, Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson were best mates ever since they were young teenagers. They were in their second year in college when the both of them decided to go into business. Zayn Malik was the quiet, reserved one while Louis Tomlinson was the playful, extroverted ladies man. They became multi millionaires together and they were so close, they were practically brothers.

And when Louis died in a car crash, Zayn was devastated and shut himself away from the world, saying he was giving it up.

Harry remembers what Louis Tomlinson looked like. He was like a rugged Peter Pan with tattoos and scruffy beard to match. He vividly remembers the newspaper headlines the day Louis crashed his Mercedes. Everyone said it was like Princess Diana. Harry almost misses his building as he reads the life of Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson.

He wonders if Zayn Malik still feels devastated, if he still feels like giving the company up like what it said in the article. He just reached the floor of his apartment when he sees Niall and Nick outside of it, playing cards.

“There he is!” Nick says as soon he see Harry, standing up. “Thank God you’re here, Niall left his keys so we were forced to sit outside for two hours!”

“Why didn’t you...” Niall starts. Harry only rolls his eyes at these two idiots and goes to grab his keys from his bag.

 

**//**

 

The rest of the week in the office is completely chaotic thanks to Zayn Malik’s surprise visit.  Staff meetings here and there, early deadlines for a couple of his deliverables and not to mention, an occasional desk check from Simon.

Harry tries hard to go with the flow and he tries to keep up with everything regardless of the stress he’s feeling. Because on top of the whole stranger to boss thing that just happened, his year-end review is coming up and Harry needs to push himself a little hard so he can make it rather than break it.

He’s been counting down to this day, holding on to the promise of a promotion by the time he hits one year. In fact, Harry’s already told his mum and Gemma about his possible promotion over the phone last night.

 _“I know you’ll get it love,”_ his mom had said to him in a proud voice, _“you can’t let your sister take all the credit.”_

 _“She’s right, little bro,”_ Gemma piped in, a smile in her voice. _“Show em’ the Styles charm the both of us got from mum. They’ll promote you the moment you walk into the room.”_

 _“Yeah, Go Harry!”_ Niall had cheered from somewhere inside the apartment.

It’s times like those that makes Harry feel lucky to be surrounded by his supportive family. It makes him want to get the promotion even more. He conditions himself that evening to focus on his goal, which is to become a senior marketing executive. His action plan is to take initiative till his year-end performance review.

He gets to it the following work day. When Liam needs someone to rewrite the new ad for the Mystery Machine energy bars, he volunteers. When he sees Mitch or Sarah needing assistance with a marketing slogan, he offers a pun or two. Hell, even when Camille asks him to water her goddamn plant, he does so with minimal complaint. (And he even used water.)

He could say that his effort is paying off because Liam’s been smiling at him more ever since the disaster at ACR Corporations. Even Camille isn’t treating him like complete shit.

The office is closing; everyone’s out except for Harry and Liam, who's currently in his office finishing a presentation. The lights in the office are dimming, and Harry’s surprised at himself for offering to stay with him even though there’s a juicy episode of The Good Doctor airing that evening.

He almosts tells Liam that he’ll go ahead but he remembers his goal.

_Year end performance review._

It’s already Harry’s twenty-eighth piece of paper that he attempts to shoot into Claire’s trash bin. It also happens to be the twenty-eighth time he missed. He is just about to crumple the twenty-ninth when Liam steps out of his office with all his bags, ready to leave.

Harry immediately drops the sheet of paper he was about to crumple and grabs his bag too.

“Sorry, Haz,” Liam says, walking over to Harry’s desk.

“No, it’s fine,” he says, attempting to sound genuine. “I had something to finish too anyway.”

“Yeah,” Liam says, gesturing at the stacks of crumpled paper. “It looks like it.” Harry only shrugs at him and they head towards the elevator together. He takes a look at the clock by the concierge office and sees that it’s a quarter past nine. Plenty of time before the episode starts.

They are already at the third floor when Liam lets out an indignant squawk.

“What’s up?” Harry asks.

“Shit,” he mutters, scratching his head in an annoyance. “I forgot to scan a couple of photos Jeff left in the meeting rooms. I need to go back and finish it.”

Harry only stares at him, not trying to show on his face that he’s pissed off and conflicted because his action plan’s nagging at him.

 _Year end performance review,_ his good conscience tells him.

 _A new episode of The Good Doctor,_ his bad conscience says.

Harry’s at a loss.

_If you stay, you’ll most likely get a good year end review._

_Liam won’t even mind if you left him behind._

_He’ll definitely consider this good deed when he does your review._

_Maybe the review’s done and all this is for nothing._

_Think of the promotion! Gemma! Your Mum! Niall!_

“I’ll do it,” Harry croaks out, not really sure why those words came out of his mouth. “I-I’ll scan the photos for you, Liam.”

“Are you sure?” Liam says, looking at him in an odd way. “I mean, I heard you and Claire talking about that episode of the Good Doctor tonight. Isn’t it starting in about an hour?”

“My roommate, Niall, will record it,” he lies, hoping Liam declines his offer because he _really_ wants to go home.

“Well,” Liam says, “I really do need to go home. I need to pass by the store and get Bear some diapers.”

Harry internally sighs. “Well then it’s settled,” Harry says half-heartedly. A fake grin plastered on his face. “I’ll scan the photos for you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Harry says, already pressing the button on the elevator that’ll take him to the tenth floor.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, Harry,” Liam says, patting him on the back. “I owe you one!” Harry only smiles at him and waves goodbye.

As soon as the door closes automatically and the elevator ascends, Harry lets out a loud groan of exhaustion as he leans back against the elevator walls. He makes a promise to himself that as soon as he gets home, he’ll lie down in Nick’s fancy hot tub for hours and hours, until his whole body prunes.

As soon as he arrives on the tenth floor, he heads over to the meeting room where Jeff usually holds his meetings with his team leaders. He goes and picks up the paper at the end table and reviews it. It seems as though it’s some sort of vitamin for men.

Harry shrugs at it after looking and turns around to head back to the sixth floor when his heart almost stops at the sight of Zayn Malik standing by the door with his arms crossed.

“Fuck,” Harry says under his breath, hand on his chest. “I mean, I’m sorry - You scared me, sir.”

“Sorry,” Zayn says, ” I didn’t mean to scare you.”  

He enters the meeting room slowly and Harry notices that he isn’t wearing a fancy suit as normal. Tonight, he’s wearing some acid washed ripped jeans, a white long sleeve hoodie and some expensive looking sneakers. He looks like an off duty model, Harry thinks.

“I just heard someone walking in the hallways so I thought I’d check,” Zayn Malik says, half leaning and half sitting down on the table.

“Oh, well it’s just me, sir,” Harry replies politely, his hands behind him. “I’m no ghost or monster or anything.”

Zayn Malik laughs at that. “Yeah, I can see that,” he says, eyes twinkling. “Thank you for clarifying. And call me Zayn, please.”

Harry nods at him and secures the files Liam wanted inside his bag. “Okay, Zayn,” he says.

“So, what’re you doing here this late?” Zayn asks, staring at Harry with his pretty eyes. It makes Harry want to slap himself so he can focus on the conversation.

“Just working late, sir.”

“Are you waiting for Jake or something?”

_“..sometimes when everyone’s out of the office, me and this guy from the IT Department, Jake would make out in one of the spare rooms..”_

“Uh, no sir,” Harry says, his head bowed down and his cheeks flaring up. Why does he always blush whenever Zayn Malik’s there? “Just plain working, no playing around tonight.”

“Oh, alright,” Zayn Malik says nonchalantly, like it doesn’t bother him that two of his employees use his office as a lowkey motel room. “Then why are you here?”

Harry shows him the paper Liam asked him to retrieve and scan thoroughly. “My team lead, Liam, asked for a favour so here I am,” he says simply.

“Ah,” he says, nodding his head. “A good team player, I see.”

Harry only shrugs at him, “Yeah well,” he begins, “my year end review is coming up and I wanted to make a lasting impression, I guess.”

“Well, I hope your year-end review will turn out great,” he says sincerely and with a warm smile that kind of reminds Harry of home.

“Thanks sir,” Harry says shyly, ruffling his curls. “I appreciate that.”

“Sure,” he says.

There’s silence for a few minutes, Harry not knowing what to say next. He only stares at his boss, appreciating the way he looks and cursing the universe for making the stranger turned boss a _very_ good-looking man.

Zayn is just about to say something when the door opens suddenly, breaking their eye-contact. His bodyguard Griff comes in, also wearing casual clothes.

“Oh, sorry,” he says, standing by the door. “I didn’t know you were with someone.”

“No it’s fine,” Zayn says, turning to face him. “We were just talking.”

Griff nods at him, “Oh alright,” he says. “Well, the car’s waiting outside.”

“OK, I’m coming,” Zayn says, walking towards the door that Griff is holding. Harry watches him leave, his mouth dangling slightly open at the sight of these good looking men. Zayn turns around to face him once again. “You coming?”

“Uh,” Harry says, shaking his head, trying to snap out of it. “Yeah yeah, I’m coming.” They walk out the door and head to the elevators, Griff walking a few steps behind them.

“You sure you’re not meeting anybody?” Zayn asks with a mix of teasing and... something in his voice that Harry just cannot pin down.

“I’m sure,” Harry says.

Zayn turns to look at his left where Harry is and says, “Good.”

It’s only one word and Harry doesn’t even know if it means something or not but he can’t help but feel slightly aroused by it. The elevator doors open and the three of them enter. Harry presses the button to the sixth floor and Zayn presses the one for the lobby.

“You gonna be alright?” Zayn asks as the elevator descends.

“Yeah,” Harry says, his hands covering his crotch. “‘I’ll just scan a few docs and have some coffee and be done with it, I suppose.”

“You mean, have some _disgusting_ coffee,” he says with a chuckle.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Harry says, refusing to look at him. “Some poisonous coffee I swear is made of tiger shit.” They chuckle silently together till they reach the sixth floor.

“I’ll see you around, Zayn,” he says as soon he steps out the elevator.

“I’ll see you too, Harry,” he says, a small smile at corner of his lips. They stare at each other again until the elevator doors close.

Harry doesn’t know what happened. All he knows is that he needs to get Liam’s files scanned as soon as possible so he can go home and get a hand around himself.

 

**//**

 

As soon as Harry arrives at the office the next day, Liam comes out from his office and snaps his fingers at him, making Harry nearly choke on his brownie.

“Harry,” he says urgently, looking a bit stressed. “Year-End review in five minutes. I’ll see you on the tenth floor.” And without another word, he heads over to the elevators, stacks of paper in his arms.

Harry’s stomach gives an almighty lurch. _Okay. This is it._ He finishes his brownie in one bite, logs in on his computer and clocks in for work, and hastily heads to the elevator for the much-awaited review.

While waiting for the elevator, he suddenly remembers the advice Gemma gave him the other night. _“You need to walk the walk, little brother,”_ she said as she demonstrates walking confidently in her high heels. “ _If you want to be a top business person, you need to walk like one. Stomach in, shoulders relaxed, ass out. That’s how a top business person walks.”_

Gemma has always been the successful sibling, so he decides it wouldn’t do him much harm to follow his sister’s advice. If the secret behind all her success is that weird walk, then Harry will take his chances.

 _Stomach in, shoulders relaxed, ass out._ The elevator doors open and he walks inside just like how Gemma taught him through skype. Harry admits that it’s somehow beginning to work, he’s starting to gain some confidence. The higher the elevator goes, the higher his confidence level rises also.

_I’m Harry Styles, Senior Marketing Executive._

He walks out the elevator following his sister’s advice. _Stomach in, shoulders relaxed, ass out._

As soon as he rounds a corner, he sees a couple of people from Design staring at him, probably thinking “ _Wow! Look at him! He must be a top marketing executive.”_ Harry smiles at them, making sure his dimples are in full bloom and using the charm he inherited from his mother.

He passes by the meeting room Zayn Malik’s currently using as his temporary office. He makes sure to minimize the sounds his boots make so he won’t be noticed, already having enough of Zayn Malik. He needs to focus right now. He needs to put his game face on. The last thing he needs to do is think of Zayn Malik’s mesmerizing eyes and stylish raven hair like he did last night. No. Harry needs to be serious.

He puts his thoughts about Zayn at the back of his head as he enters the room where Liam’s waiting. He walks in and makes sure to walk Gemma’s ‘I’m a successful person’ walk. He can feel Liam promoting him on the spot because of this. Gemma’s a genius.

“What’s wrong, Haz?” Liam asks, a tone of concern in his voice, his puppy dog eyes shining at him. “Do you have a wedgie or something?”

_Okay, probably not._

“Uh no,” Harry says, dropping the walk and slumping down on the empty chair in front of Liam.

“Okay,” Liam says, arranging the papers he has on the desk.

Harry’s never felt more nervous before in his life. It feels like one of those times where the teacher’s about to announce the result for an exam he semi-studied for. Harry can’t help but feel a rush of eagerness.

“Okay so, Harry Styles,” Liam continues, reading a piece of paper that has Harry’s name and picture on it. “As you know,  today’s your year-end review. Sorry I couldn’t deliver it sooner, I mean with Zayn Malik coming in and all that...”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m good,” Harry replies, nervous and a bit impatient.

Liam nods at him and shifts his gaze from Harry to the piece of paper in front of him. “OK, so.. Harry, you’re generally doing fine, you’re not always late, you somehow understand the tasks given to you-” he begins to tick off some boxes.

“Well, I actually understand them a whole lot,” Harry pipes in.

“-You’re fairly efficient,” Liam continues, still ticking boxes off of the form in front of him. “You work OK with your colleagues, you’re a team player….” he goes on and on and Harry can’t help but doze off and think of what’ll happen later once he’s promoted. (He’s thinking of maybe throwing Camille’s spider plant out the window or something equally lowkey.)

“...you’re good at giving and taking feedback...”

Or maybe he’ll get the brand new desk from Camille and get his flimsy one replaced

“...you’re easy to work with and can be relied on...”

Or maybe he’ll ask his replacement junior marketing assistant to do his work for him like the rest of the other marketing executives do.

“...a  forward thinker...”

Or maybe he’ll be one of the good senior associates, take his job seriously and google what fucking logistical means… It’ll only take him one minute to do that, right?

“...Harry?”

Maybe he’ll go out on more business trips and meet more important people. He’ll need to start investing in marketing books…

“Harry?”

He also need to have a quick chat with Gemma so he can get some tips on management.

“HARRY!”

“Wait what?” Harry says dumbly, logging back into reality. “Sorry, what?”

Liam’s looking at him with an eyebrow raised and his form full of green check marks. “I asked if you feel racially harassed?” he asks, impatient.

“Uh, no.”

“Okay,” he says, checking the final tick box. “I guess we’re done. Do you have any more questions?”

“Uh no,” Harry says, “not really.”

“Okay, good,” Liam says as he signs Harry’s year-end review form. “Then we should be all set.” He passes the form to Harry and asks him to sign.

“Thanks Liam,” Harry says as soon as he finishes signing, “this means a whole lot.”

“Uh sure, Harry,” he says, taking the form back. “Can you call Mitch next please?”

“Sure sure,” Harry says, nodding at him. “I’ll ask him to come in next. Oh and by the way,  when do I start?”

Liam gives him a confused look. “Start what?” he asks, looking up from his files.

“The job!” Harry says with a small laugh, “my new tasks. When do I start?”

Liam gives him another confused look. “What do you mean new tasks?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at him. “I mean, you’ll still do the old ones. This is just a review, Harry.”

“You mean,” Harry starts,  “I still get to do what Camille asks me to do?” His left eyebrow arching up. “You mean, even though I’m promoted to senior executive, I’ll still do everyone’s bidding?”

“What do you mean promoted to senior executive?” Liam says, standing up and giving him a concerned look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harry. I mean, you’re still a junior executive. Nothing’s changed.”

Harry’s mouth dangles open at that. “What?” he blurts out, trying not to sound anxious. “But Liam,” he takes out a crumpled piece of paper from jean pockets. “It... it said in the ad in my job description that there’ll be a possible promotion after a year!”

He shows Liam the paper and Liam sighs at it. “Exactly, Harry,” he says, looking at Harry seriously. “A _possible_ promotion. The keyword is possible.”

“Liam,” he tries to argue, “I’ve been working hard. There’s gotta be something that I can do to...”

“Harry-”

“But Liam-”

“But nothing,” Liam says, exasperated. “Look Harry, I know you really want this promotion,” he says, looking at Harry seriously. “I really want you to have it too but you’re just not ready yet for a promotion. You need to prove yourself first.”

“I’m doing everything as well as I can,” Harry says with a pout. “If you would only give me a chance...”

“I did give you a chance, Harry,” Liam answers, tired. “At ACR Corporations. Remember? I’m sorry, Harry but bottomline is... You’re not ready yet for a promotion. Maybe in a year, yeah?”

Harry only nods at him sadly as his mind whirls. He’s trying to look for ways to accept the news in a calm dignified way. He’s already training his tongue to say something professional like, _“I respect your decision,”_ however..

“Please promote me,” Harry says suddenly, making Liam raise his eyebrows at him. “Please... I have to get this promotion. I just, I need it. It’s the only thing I want in the whole world and I’ll work really hard, I promise.”

“Harry...”

“’l’ll do overtime... I’ll work on weekends... I’ll... I’ll wear smart suits!” Harry unintentionally exclaims.

“Harry, calm down,” Liam says gently, raising his hands up.

“You won’t even have to increase my salary!”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Liam says, scratching the back of his head. “But I’m afraid my answer is still the same.”  Harry can’t help but let his shoulders slump at Liam’s words. “Word of advice, Harry, if you want to get ahead, you have to create your own chances. You have to carve out your own opportunities. Okay?”

Harry only nods at him sadly, not daring to use his words.

“In a year,” Liam says, trying to motivate him. “We’ll see in a year, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry says quietly, feeling dejected at not being promoted. “Thank you, Liam.”

Liam pats Harry on the back encouragingly and asks him to go back to his desk and call Mitch next. He slumps down all the way to the sixth floor.

 

**//**

 

“Harry!” Camille says enthusiastically as soon he steps into the office.

“Not now, Camille,” Harry says miserably, walking over to his desk. He isn’t in the mood for her today. In fact, he isn’t in the mood for anything.

“I’m not gonna ask you to do anything,” she says, rolling her eyes at him. “I just have a message for you.”

“From who?”

“From your sister,” she says, her eyes gleaming at him, “she’s calling to congratulate you about your promotion,” half-shouting the last part of her sentence. Harry decides then and there that he hates her.

He replies by sitting on his chair and signing into his computer.

“So is it true, Harry?” she says mockingly, “are you promoted to a senior executive?”

“Shut up Camille,” Claire says, saving him. “Don’t be such a bitch.”

“I wasn’t,” she says defensively. “I was merely asking Harry here if it’s true or not.”

“It’s not true,” Harry snaps at her, trying to control his temper. “I’m not promoted. You happy?”

She smiles at him in an evil way before saying, “No, of course not.” And with that she returns to her desk.

Harry could feel the disappointment creeping, he can’t help but feel sorry for himself. All those things he did was for nothing. He shouldn’t have stayed back last night and offered to do stuff for Liam. He shouldn’t have done all those extra things. He should’ve watered Camille’s plant with actual water.

“You okay, love?” Claire asks, patting him comfortingly on the back.

 _“In a year_ ,” Liam had said. _We’ll see in a year_.

“Yeah,” Harry says, taking a deep breath. “I will be.” He puts a hand on top of Claire’s and gets up to grab a cup of coffee, a poor attempt of trying to get back on track.

“Where are you going?” Claire asks him.

“Gonna go get some coffee,” he says from over his shoulder.

“Oh,” she says, “they’ve taken the coffee machine away, Harry.”

He stops walking and turns around to face her. “What?” he says. “What do you mean they’ve taken it away?”

“We’re getting a new one,” Claire says, sounding enthusiastic. “With really nice coffee that Zayn Malik himself ordered.”

All Harry does is stare at her with his mouth open. Zayn Malik ordered a new coffee machine?

“Harry!” Camille says to him impatiently. “Did you hear me? I said I needed the ad notes for the Mystery product I sent you.” And without waiting for Harry to respond, she gets back to the phone. “Sorry mum, was just telling my assistant something.”

Her assistant?

If this were a normal day he wouldn’t let it pass, but since he’s having an awful shit day, he lets her have it. He goes back to his desk and rummages through the bottom of his messy cabinet, trying to look for the folder Camille left at his desk last week.

He tries to divert his attention from Camille and think of the new coffee machine Zayn Malik ordered. Already feeling ridiculous of thinking that Zayn Malik did it for him. Maybe he was planning on buying a new coffee machine, regardless. He probably realized that the coffee does taste bad so he made a decision to change it.

As soon as he retrieves the folder from the very bottom of the abyss that is known as his desk and sits up straight, he nearly drops the folder containing the files to explode all over the floor.

Zayn Malik is currently sitting down on Harry’s desk wearing a three-piece suit and black glasses. God, when will Harry get used to seeing him in his handsome glory?

“Hello again,” he says with a smile. “How are you?”

“Uh... good. Thanks,” Harry says awkwardly, trying to put the folder on top of his desk nonchalantly. “I... I heard about the coffee machine,” he says, trying to make conversation. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” Zayn says, eyes shining.

Before Harry can say anything else, Jeff enters the room and he goes straight to Zayn. “Everyone,” he says, calling everybody’s attention. “Mr Malik is going to be sitting in on the department this morning.”

“Please,” Zayn says, “call me Zayn.”

“Uh, right,” Jeff says awkwardly, “uh, Zayn will be sitting in for the morning. He’s just going to observe how we work, find out what we do, how we operate as a team. Uh, just behave normally, no need to do anything special.” He sees Harry from behind Zayn and gives him a strained smile. Looks like Liam was able to tell him about his breakdown earlier.

“Harry,” he says with a stoney smile. “Good morning. How are you? Everything going great?”

“Uh... good,” Harry says, returning his stoney smile. “Everything’s great.”

“Perfect!” he says, still smiling yet his eyes read, ‘Please. _Don’t make any scenes today. Not now. Please.’_

Harry returns the message with, ‘ _I’ll behave I promise.’_

Jeff gives him a final look and returns his attention to the marketing staff. “Oh and by the way,” he continues, still with a strained smile, “I just wanted to remind you all that our corporate family day is coming up in less than a month. This will be everyone’s chance to let their hair down and have fun!”

Everyone gives him a blank look. Jeff was never a fan of family days. Though he loves his daughter very much, he doesn’t like taking her out because it’s a lot if hard work.

“Anyway, back to work,” he says, a little too enthusiastically. “Have a good day, everyone!” And with that, he heads back to his office.

“Just ignore me,” Zayn says, “pretend I’m not here.” And with that, he pushes himself off of Harry’s flimsy desk and goes to sit on a chair in the corner.

The awkwardness starts from there.

Okay. Behave normally. Harry can do that. Alright so, if this were a normal day, he’d slouch on his chair and kick his shoes off, check his emails, delete his emails, read his western and chinese horoscope, eat some peanuts, put some hand lotion on, write ‘Harry Styles, Senior Marketing Executive’ in cursive multiple times in his moleskin journal, send Claire a meme through email and wait to see if she’ll respond, grab some horrendous coffee then look for the file Camille wanted.

Alright. Harry doesn’t think so.

He sits back in his rickety chair and thinks of something to do, willing his mind to work and think quickly.

 _Create your own chances. Carve out your own opportunities._ Liam’s voice echoes inside his head.

He looks from his shoulder and he immediately sees Zayn writing something down on his notepad, concentrated and deep in thought. _Carve out your own opportunities,_ Liam’s voice echoes again.

Is this an opportunity? Harry thinks, watching Zayn from the mirror on his desk. Is this what Liam meant by carve your own opportunities? He sits and weighs his options. This may not be their first encounter but surely, this could be Harry’s chance to redeem himself.

Zayn Malik is here. Sitting a couple of feet away, watching Harry work. This could be his chance to prove how bright and motivated he is. That’s right. This could be Harry’s chance.

He sits up straight as if he’s in posture class and begins to look for the document Camille wanted, making sure to keep his chin up. He takes a quick glance around the office and sees that everyone is in posture class too.

Mitch, who was watching a couple of YouTube videos before Zayn Malik arrived, is now studying a document with line charts and pie charts on them, a deep frown painted on his face. Claire and Sara, who were gossiping earlier, have a few leaflets on their desk discussing which is a better fit for the new product they were about to release. Camille, who was just on the phone with her mother, is wearing her glasses typing something on her computer rapidly.

“Harry,” she says in a falsely sweet voice. It makes Harry internally cringe. “Would you be a dear and get me that folder I asked you to find? Not that there’s any hurry.”

_Create your own chances. Carve out your own opportunities._

“No, I have it here,” he says in an equally sweet voice, pushing his chair back and trying to walk as natural as he can over to her desk. God, it feels like he’s in some sort of reality TV show or something. The longer he walks, the more his legs feel like jelly and yet his smile is still plastered on his face. He hands her the document without saying anything for fear of suddenly shouting random things like ‘Pants’ or something.

“Bless you, Harry,” she says, dramatically. It internally pains him not to roll his eyes at her. “We wouldn’t know what to do without you, Harry.”

“It’s quite alright,” Harry says, matching her tone. “All in a day’s work!” And with that he returns to his desk, already mad at himself for not thinking of something more clever to say like “Teamwork is what keeps this Operation successful” or something. Nevermind. He’ll impress him in another way.

As soon as he returns to his desk, he opens his computer as normally as he can muster and pulls up his Word document.

_I’ll pretend to write the report Sarah asked me to write a week ago. Yeah, I’ll do that._

Harry begins to type _‘the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog’_ as fast as he could, his back straight and eyes laser focused on his computer screen. He can hear everyone else doing the same thing - well, maybe they’re typing more important stuff than what Harry’s typing but the thing is everyone’s typing. The office hasn’t been this quiet. Like ever.

“It’s very quiet in here,” Zayn observes, his legs crossed, leaning back on the chair Mitch offered him earlier. “Is it normally this quiet?”

They all look each other confusedly, not really knowing how or what to answer.

“Don’t mind me at all,” he says, standing up and beginning to walk around the office. “Talk as you would normally do. You must have discussions or gossips or whatever.”

The staff gives him a silent response.

“When I worked in an office,” he continues, his voice laced with passion, “me and my colleagues would talk about _everything_ ,” he says, gesturing using his hands.  “Movies, who slept with who, tv shows, politics, books... For instance, what have you been reading recently?”

“The Art of War,” Camille volunteers, her nose up in the air.

“Great!” Zayn says encouragingly. “What about the others?”

“I’m re-reading the Harry Potter books.”

“There’s this new John Green Book.”

The volume of the chatter within the office increases and Harry could do nothing but doodle a fox jumping over a lazy dog in his notepad.

“What about you, um, Harry?” he hears someone ask.

His eyes widen in panic at Zayn’s question.

_“...I’m in this book club Claire, one of my close colleagues, hosts every week and I don’t read the books she asks us to. Just the summaries at the back...”_

Zayn looks at him, a mix of mischief in his eyes. If he weren’t Harry’s super mega big boss, he would've kicked him in the crotch on the spot.

_Just tell them the truth. You haven’t read shit since high school._

“Nothing really,” Harry half whispers, avoiding Zayn’s eyes.

“He’s being modest,” Claire pipes in, _CLAIRE NO._ “He’s vice president of the book club and he’s read loads of books.”

_Why me?_

“Oh, have you now?” Zayn says, a small smile creeping at the side of his lips.

“No no,” Harry says, sweating a little. “I mean, yeah I’ve read a couple of books,” he continues, ruffling his hair, “but I’m more a movie person,”

“Yeah it’s true,” Liam pipes in next, “He’s also a huge batman fan, Zayn! Can you believe it?” he says over enthusiastically. This just keeps getting better and better, Harry thinks.

“Oh really now?” Zayn says, his eyes shining. “Who’s your favorite batman then?”

“Ooh, that’s a hard one!” Liam says excitedly, causing the office to engage in quiet discussion.

Harry comically gulps at that. He and Zayn engage in an impromptu staring contest.

 _Please don’t do this,_ Harry says using his eyes

 _Why not?_ Zayn answers back by cocking an eyebrow up

_Just... Please... I’m begging you._

“I mean, it’s fine if you don’t have an answer yet,” Zayn says as if they didn’t just converse using only eye contact. “I’m still not sure if I like Christian Bale or George Clooney better.”

 _Thank you,_ Harry says gratefully.

 _You owe me_ , Zayn silently says through a wink.

He focuses his attention back to the computer screen and continues to type.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong with it,” Harry hears Camille’s annoying voice say. “Do you know anything about plants?”

_“...when I’m pissed of with Camille…”_

Zayn looks at him briefly with a deadpan look on his face before saying, “I’m afraid not, I’m sorry,” he says, monotone. “Would you have any ideas about plants, Harry?”

Harry blushes pink at the question. “No,” he says in the same monotone voice, his face blank. “Not at all.” He goes back to the screen and types furiously. Okay. So, he occasionally waters the damn thing with orange juice or coffee. Big deal. It’s just a plant.

“Has anyone seen my favorite cup?” he hears Liam ask next.

_“...I broke my boss’ favorite cup and hid the pieces in my desk drawer…”_

Oh shit. Okay so, he broke a stupid cup too. Big deal.

“So Zayn,” Gary says, “If you think we don’t have fun in the office, check this out.” He leads Zayn towards the printing station.

_Kill me now. Please. Right. Now. May death fall upon me. God, Have mercy!_

_“...It was during one of our Christmas parties. I was drunk off my ass and my ex just broke up with me so I decided to photocopy...”_

Gary shows him the obscene photocopy of his ass. Harry wishes the floor would swallow him whole.

“We still don’t know who it is,” he says, staring at the photocopy picture of Harry’s ass.

“Harry!” someone from the entrance calls out. Harry turns to face the person and all the color in his face disappears. Could this get any worse.

_“...Me and this colleague of mine, Adam, have this secret code..”_

“Adam,” Harry says in a low tone, waving at him. He walks over to Harry’s desk and stops midway when he sees Zayn Malik looking at him.

“Oh,” he says, turning a light shade of pink. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to...”

“No need to apologize,” Zayn says kindly, “I’m merely a fly on the wall, please continue.” Adam only nods at him and quickly walks over to Harry.

“Hey Adam,” Claire also says, greeting him. At the sound of Adam’s name, Zayn Malik’s ears perk up and he looks at them with a riveting expression on his face. Harry doesn’t like the look of his riveting expression

_Please. Not now, Adam. Not now. PLEASE._

Harry gives him a desperate look, trying to convey his message using his face. _Don’t say it. Don’t say you want to go over numbers with me. Please._

As soon as Adam arrives at Harry’s workstation, he gives him a confused look. “What’s wrong with you?” he says.

“Nothing,” Harry says, the same desperate look on his face. _Please. Don’t do it._

Adam raises an eyebrow at him, receiving Harry’s message. _Thank God._

“So,” Harry begins, sighing in relief. “What’s up?”

“Well,” he says, scratching the back of his head. Probably thinking of an alternative topic. “I was just... Wondering...”

Oh no..

“..Is it okay if…”

STOP.

“..I go over some numbers with you?”

Ugh. Fuck.

Harry’s whole face loses its color. “You know what,” Harry says in fake bright voice, a forced smile plastered on his face. “I don’t think that’s possible today.”

Adam gives him a surprised look. “R-really?” he says, eyes wide. “But, but I really _really_ need to go over some numbers with you really quick.”

“I’m quite tied up at work,” he says with the same artificial tone whilst trying to telegraph ‘SHUT UP’ at him.

“But Harry,” he says, begging slightly. “It won’t even take long. It’ll be really quick.”

“I really don’t think so.”

Adam’s eyes are practically bulging. “Harry,” he says, “they’re _really_ important numbers.”

Harry was just about to retort back when Zayn beats him to it. “I think you should go on and go over the numbers, Harry,” he says innocently.

Harry could do nothing but stare at him, blood pounding in his ears. Zayn does nothing but give him a teasing smile.

“Okay,” Harry says, defeated. “I’ll go over those damn numbers with you.”

 

**//**

 

Harry arrives the next morning with one aim. Avoid Zayn Malik.

Zayn Malik was nowhere to be found when he got back from ‘going over numbers’ with Adam yesterday. He was already skipping steps and humming a tune he heard on the radio that morning until he reached his desk. On the computer keyboard is a folded piece of paper with ‘Harry’ written on it in handwriting he does not recognize. Puzzled, he opens it, making sure that nobody else in the office is watching him as he does so.

_I hope your meeting was productive! I always find numbers give me buzz ! x :)_

_Zayn Malik_

Harry gulps as he folds the paper again. It could be worse. It could be ‘Clear your desk’ or something but even so, Harry’s on edge the whole day and as soon as the clock hits five-thirty pm, he rushes out the Mystery Machine Corp building and only begins to relax once he’s paid for his bus ticket.

So that’s why his goal is to avoid Zayn for the rest of his stay. He’s had enough of feeling embarrassed. He’s already hit his life quota. It should be easy enough on account of the Mystery Machine Corporation building being a huge one. Harry’s hoping Zayn will sit in on other departments and observe like he did yesterday with the marketing team.

As Harry approaches the big glass doors of the building, he begins to walk slowly and peers inside the building like a professional spy. He doesn’t see Zayn Malik anywhere.

“You lost, Harry?” someone asks from behind him, making Harry nearly fall down because of his nerves.

“ _Holy Christ_ ,” Harry starts, putting a hand over his beating heart. “Fucking hell, Gary, you scared me!”

“Sorry Harry,” he says, a cup of coffee in his hand. “You were just acting a bit strange so I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Well, you got me,” Harry says, trying to stop himself from rolling his eyes at him. “Happy?”

“Yep,” he says, taking a sip from his cup and starting to walk inside. “You coming?” Gary says over his shoulder, stopping mid-walk.

“Be there in a few,” he replies,.

“Suit yourself,” he says, and walks towards the elevators.

As soon as he’s gone, Harry steps away from the building and paces back and forth on the pavement, trying to talk himself into going inside. It feels like the first day of school, where his mum made him wear an ugly jumper his great aunt made for him last Christmas.

_You got this, Harry. Everything will turn out fine. You got this._

He takes a deep breath and walks inside the building, his chelsea boots clicking on the marble floor. The further he goes in, the better he feels. There’s no sign of Zayn anywhere. He probably isn’t even in yet.

Confidently, he throws his hair back and heads towards the stairs. He’s not taking any chances by waiting for the elevators. So, stairs it is.

_OK, this is going to be fine. I’m going to be fine. The plan is going perfectly._

“Zayn!” Simon shouts as he’s nearing the first floor. “Have you got a minute?”

Harry stops in his tracks at the sound of the name and spots Zayn in the landing above talking to Simon Cowell. His heart gives a huge lurch, making him clutch the brass banister. If Zayn looks down, he’ll spot Harry easily.

_Oh shit. This is not fine. I’m not fine._

Very slowly, he steps down the stairs, not taking his eyes off of Zayn. He makes sure not to click his brown boots on the floor or move suddenly, so he won’t attract his attention. A guy from Accounting walks past him, giving him an odd look as he’s stepping backwards but Harry doesn’t care. He just wants to get away.

As soon as Harry is out of Zayn’s line of sight, he sighs out in relief and feels himself relaxing a bit more. He rushes to go back down to the foyer so he can take the elevator instead.

He is in the middle of the huge expanse of the foyer, when he hears his voice, causing Harry to freeze.

“That’s right,” his voice says. The source getting nearer and nearer. It makes Harry paranoid.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely take that into consideration but for now…”

Harry’s head swivels left and right, trying to look for him.

_Where the fuck is he? Which direction is he going?_

“Of course I will, Simon. I think I’ll ask Ned to call you just in case…”

_Oh fuck, he’s going down the stairs._

Without thinking twice, Harry sprints out of the building - almost running through the glass doors - scuttles down the steps, runs a mile away from the building, and stops, panting.

Okay, the plan isn’t going well and it’s only seven thirty in the morning.

He stands on the pavement in the morning sunshine for a few minutes, trying to estimate the time it would take Zayn Malik to go back to his office on the tenth floor.

He walks back to Mystery building, thinking of a new tactic. He’ll walk to the office incredibly quickly so he won’t catch anyone’s eye. It won’t even matter if he passes by Zayn Malik or not.

 _Carve out your own opportunities,_ Liam’s echoing voice makes Harry groan irritably.

Okay, not a good idea. He’s back at the entrance and was just about to push the glass doors open when he sees him, still talking to Simon about God knows what. Without meaning to, he finds himself running down the steps again and onto the pavement.

 _This is getting ridiculous_ , Harry thinks. _I can’t stay out here on the streets all day. I have to get to my desk. There must be another way_. He looks around the street and spots a magazine stand, giving Harry a bright idea.

Five minutes later, Harry enters the building, chelsea boots clicking on the marble floor and huge ass newspaper covering his entire head. He pretends to be engrossed in an article about economy or something. Harry can’t see anyone and no one can see Harry. He decides that it’s the perfect disguise. He walks across the foyer, not looking up from his newspaper. Harry decides that he should do this more often. He feels cocooned and safe. He’s nearly at the landing to the sixth floor when -

“Ow!” someone says, Harry lowers hid paper down and sees Liam staring at him, rubbing his head. “Harry, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Liam,” Harry says in a relieved voice, glancing around the office and releasing another relieved sigh at the absence of Zayn Malik.

“I-I was just reading the morning paper,” he says feebly, “Sorry Li.”

“Well it’s alright, Harry, but next time lower your paper. You might bump into Zayn Malik or something,” he scolds, straightening his clothes. “Where were you?” Harry shrugs and was just about to open his mouth to explain but Liam cuts him off. “Anyway, I want you to do tea and coffee at our meeting today.”

“T-tea and coffee?” Harry repeats, puzzled. They don’t usually have refreshments at their meetings.

“We’re having tea and coffee today,” Liam says. “And biscuits, alright,” he says, backpedaling towards his office. “Zayn Malik’s coming so you’d better get to it.”

“W-what?” he asks, mouth hanging open.

“Zayn Malik is coming along so you better hurry,” he says again, impatient. “So you better _hurry_ , Harry.”

“Do I have to go?” Harry ask with a pout, unable to hold his tongue.

Liam gives him a confused look, eyebrows meeting. “What?”

“I just mean,” Harry tries to explain, ruffling his curls. “If, you know, if I actually have to be there or-”

“Harry,” Liam starts to say, using the voice he usually uses when he’s trying to teach his son, Bear, something. “If you can serve tea and coffee using telekinesis then by all means, stay at your desk and go do whatever it is that you normally do,” he says, looking Harry in the eye. “But if not, then I guess you’d better be there, yeah?”

Harry only nods at him, imitating Bear a little bit.

“Good,” Liam says, nodding back at him. “And remember what I said at the Year-End? You need to...”

“Carve out your own opportunities,” Harry answers for him, still pouting and looking at his shoes. He feels like a four year old.

“Very good,” Liam says with a smile. “Get to it, then.” And with that, he disappears to his office.

His plan is already failing and he hasn’t even gotten the chance to sit on his chair yet. He lets out a sigh of frustration as he dumps his bag on his flimsy desk. He’ll cover his face using the glasses just like Jennifer Lopez did in that movie where she was a maid in a hotel. It seemed to work for her so it’s bound to work for him.

With a new plan of attack, he hurries through the corridors to go to the elevator and presses the button going up. Yes. That’s his new plan. Operation Avoid Zayn Malik is still in progress.

As soon as the elevator door pings open, Harry’s mouth drops down to the floor.

Inside the elevator is Zayn Malik standing alone, in a pink suit with a flower sewn on one of the lapels talking on his mobile phone.

Before Harry can backpedal, Zayn Malik puts his phone away and gives him a quizzical look. “Are you getting in?” he asks, head tilted sideways. God, Harry wants to die.

“Uh, y-yeah,” he says instead of saying, “No, I just pressed the elevator button for fun! Haha!” He enters the elevator with stiff legs and turns around, eyes focused on the front. The doors close and they begin to ascend.

Silence fills the elevators, Harry can actually feel the knot of tension in his stomach. He suddenly has the urge to vomit.

“Uh, Mr Malik,” he says, breaking the awkward silence, looking sideways at him. Zayn looks up at him from his phone. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for my, um, episode the other day,” Harry says, trying to stop his face from turning red. “I swear it won’t happen again.”

“You don’t have poisonous coffee now,” Zayn says lightly. “So I’m afraid you don’t have an excuse to go to Starbucks anymore.”

“Absolutely, sir,” Harry says, face hot in embarrassment. “I promise that it’ll be the last.” He clears his throat. “I just wanted you to know that I’m fully committed to Mystery Machines Corporation and I will give nothing but my one hundred percent every day.”

“Really?” Zayn says, his mouth twitching in amusement. “Well that’s good to hear, Harry. But can you keep a secret?”

Harry looks at him for a moment before saying, “Uh yeah,” apprehensively. “What is it?”

“I actually used to play hooky too,” he whispers, leaning close enough for Harry to smell his expensive perfume.

“No way,” Harry says, a small smile and eyebrow raised. “The great Zayn Malik? Playing hooky? I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true,” he answers with a smile. “Back at my first job, me and Louis had a code too,” he continues, turning to face Harry, his voice animated. “One of use would ask the other if they could bring the Westside folder.”

“What’s the Westside folder?”

“It doesn’t exist,” Zayn says with a chuckle. “‘Twas just an excuse to get away from our desks. We used to do it all the time back then.” Harry smiles at him in answer. Somehow, he starts to feel better.

The elevator opens at the eighth floor but no one enters.

“So,” Zayn says, as the elevator door closes again and begins to ascend. “Your colleagues seem nice enough.” Harry starts to sweat at that. “You all seem friendly with one another and industrious... Is it always like that?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry answers all too suddenly. “We, uhm, enjoy cooperating with one another in a, uhm, industrial and, uhm.. Team-based operation...” He’s trying to think of good things but Harry decides that Zayn knows this is all bullshit already. So honestly, what is the point?

He leans back against the lift walls and sighs, “OK, everything you saw yesterday was just an act,” he says honestly, loosening his tie. “Camille and Mitch hate each other, and we don’t usually sit at our desks and talk about literature.”

Zayn laughs at that. “You surprise me,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “I mean, I felt it too. The atmosphere at the Admin department seemed false as well. I started to catch on when two of them started singing the Mystery Machine Corporation Anthem. And I didn’t even know that we have an anthem!”

“Me neither,” Harry says, laughing with him. “Was it any good?”

“What do you think?” he says comically, a huge grin still on his face. It’s bizarre to Harry that the atmosphere between him and Zayn isn’t remotely awkward anymore. In fact, he feels like they’re old friends or something.

“What about the Corporate Family day?” he asks, “excited for it?”

Harry groans at that. “Like getting teeth pulled out.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he says, nodding. “And uh,” he hesitates, “what do people think of me?” he casually ruffles his styled hair, almost as if he’s embarrassed. (Which Harry finds hard to believe.) “I mean, you don’t have to answer.”

“No, everyone actually likes you,” Harry says sincerely, giving him an encouraging look. “They just think your friend is a bit creepy.”

“Who, Griff?” he says, throwing his head back in laughter. “Oh no, I can assure you that he’s one of the most un-creepy people in the world. There was this one time...” He stops talking as soon as the elevator doors ping open, making them both snap back into their passive states.

“Mr Malik,” Mike Hilton says, greeting him, not paying Harry any attention. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Yeah sorry,” Zayn says, “I got caught up at the elevator but I’m here now.” Mike leads him out of the elevator and to the meeting room they were going to use, leaving Harry alone.

He stares at them as they go inside the room. Harry doesn’t know if he imagined it or not but for a millisecond, Zayn Malik turns around and gives him a meaningful look that reads, “ _Sorry about that. I promise I’ll make it up later.”_

Harry, for some reason, feels magnetized at that. He can’t help but look at him till he disappears inside the meeting room. He suddenly has a strong urge to pull Zayn away from Mike’s clutches and demand him to tell the story about Griff.

 _No... You’re acting crazy,_ Harry tells himself. _It’s because of the plane. It’s just because you were in a traumatic experience with him. That’s why you’re hooked. No other reason._

But even so, he continues to look, only moving when the elevator doors begin to close, and Harry has no choice but to wrestle them open.

 

**//**

 

“We need more creative thinking,” Jeff says. “The Mystery energy bar is just not performing as it should. Sarah, what are the latest statistics?”

“Well,” Sarah starts to say, consulting her file. “Seventy-four percent of ten to fourteen year olds thinks it needs to be more chewy,” she says. “Sixty-seven percent of fifteen to seventeen year olds thinks it should be more crunchy.”

As Harry passes around cakes and biscuits, he sees Camille write ‘Chewy/Crunchy’ on her notepad. It makes him roll his eyes at it.

“For the taste,” Sarah continues to say, “fifty two percent of ten to fourteen year olds thinks it’s too tangy and sixty one percent of fifteen to seventeen year olds says its not tangy enough.”

Can they make this meeting any less interesting? He glances over to see how Zayn is taking it and is surprised to see that he’s already looking at him. He subtly raises an eyebrow at him in question and Harry responds by miming vomit which makes him laugh quietly.

“They don’t know what they want,” Mitch says in a frustrated tone.

“We interviewed a sample of diverse teenagers,” Sarah says, “including Caucasian, Asian, Black, Latino…” she squints at the report and says, “uh, Space Monkeys?”

“Teenagers!” Camille says in a irritated voice.

“Well, our target market is...”

The meeting goes on and on and Harry tries his hardest not to doze off. He remembers his nan and the old men he and Niall sometimes play golf with who are actually big fans of the Mystery Bars. What if they’re maybe targeting the wrong market?

“Does anyone else have any thoughts on this?” Jeff asks, writing something down on his notepad.

_Carve out your own opportunities._

“Um,” Harry says, clearing his throat. “My nan and a couple of retired men really like them,” he says, plucking up all his courage. “I mean, I could ask them what they think?”

“And that’s important because?” Jeff asks, puzzled.

“I don’t know,” Harry says, his face growing hot by the second. “I just thought that maybe we’re targeting the...”

“With all due respect, Harry,” Camille says, cutting him off. “But senior citizens are barely in our target market.”

“Unless he started young,” Mitch pipes in, making almost everyone giggle. Harry flushes and feels a bit hurt at that and pretends to rearrange the tea bags in his pushcart.

“To be frank with you all,” Camille says, “If the Mystery bars aren’t performing at all then I suggest we pull them out.”

Harry looks up at that. They can’t take away the Mystery bars! What will his nan and her friends eat during their bowling tournaments? What will the guys he plays golf with eat while playing? This is unacceptable!

“Maybe we could re-brand or-” Claire inputs.

“I disagree,” Camille says again, more bossy. “If we’re going to maximize our innovation in a functional and logistical way, then surely we need to focus on our strategic competencies...”

“Excuse me,” a familiar gentle voice says from the end of the table. Zayn has his hand up like a student asking his teacher a question. It’s the first time that he’s spoken ever since the meeting began. There’s an air of anticipation as they all wait for him to continue speaking. He swears he’s never seen Camille look this smug ever since he started working here.

“Yes, Mr Malik?” she asks, using a professional tone.

“Yeah, I’m sorry but I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, making the whole room stare at him in shock and forcing Harry to swallow a fit of laughter. “It’s just that, I’ve been out of the business arena for quite some time. Could you maybe translate that into english?”

_This is the best day ever._

“Oh,” Camille says, looking at everyone except Zayn. “Well, I was simply saying that from a strategic point of view, notwithstanding our...”

“Try again,” he says kindly, cutting her off. “And try not to use the word strategic.”  Harry stares at Zayn with awe in his eyes. If only Harry was in the position to ask someone from refraining using ‘logistics.’ Zayn subtly winks at him, making Harry blush a bit. _Focus Harry._

“Oh,” Camille says again, blushing slightly. “Well, I think we need to... Um... concentrate on what we do well.”

“Oh!” Zayn says, nodding at her. “Now I understand, please continue.”

He glances at Harry again, rolls his eyes and grins at him. Harry can only return a small grin back.

 

**//**

 

Harry can’t help but feel relieved that the week’s over. He feels like a snow globe, where one minute everything’s calm and dull, and then Zayn Malik turns up and shakes him up, leaving snow and glitter all over the place, whirling around.

He also can’t help but feel a tinge of secret excitement whenever he catches Zayn’s eye or hears his voice. It feels like a dart being thrown directly to his chest, which is _ridiculous_. Zayn’s his boss, his mega-boss employer who just so happens to know all his secrets. That’s why he’s giving Harry all these feelings. Just for that one reason. Nothing else.

When Harry arrives home he finds Niall and Nick watching the telly.

“Hey,” Harry says, exhausted, dropping his bag on one of the empty armchairs. “What are you watching?” He takes a seat beside Niall and sees that they’re watching an episode of the Dog Whisperer.

“I’m waiting for my date to pick me up,” Nick answers in a bored voice. “Niall James, on the other hand, is watching some show where a strange man apparently whispers to dogs.”

“He doesn’t whisper to them,” Niall says in an irritated voice, “he trains them!”

“Then why is it called Dog Whisperer?” he asks, an eyebrow raised. “They should’ve called it the Dog Trainer. Don’t you think?”

“No! It’s just- ugh, never mind,” Niall says in a defeated voice.

Nick was about to make a retort when they all hear a car honking outside their flat. It must be Nick’s date.

“Though I’d love to sit and chat with you, I have more interesting things to do,” he says, standing up and grabbing a coat that looks like it’s from Gucci. “Don’t wait up for me.” And with that he walks out the door.

As soon as they’re alone in the flat, Niall reaches for the remote and shuts the television off, giving Harry a calculating a look.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking,” Harry starts to say before Niall can suggest anything, “I want you to know that my answer is no.”

“Are you sure about that?” he says with a smirk, reaching into his back jean pocket and taking out a red envelope.

He hands Harry the envelope, leaving him to open it and look at its contents. Inside the envelope is a rusty looking key with a yarn as it’s makeshift keychain, along with a piece of paper that has an address on it.

“What is this?” Harry asks, puzzled. “Is this a key to your high school locker or something?”

“No, you prick!” Niall says with a laugh, grabbing the key and envelope from Harry. “Have you heard of the Yale Club?”

Harry’s eyes widen at that. “No way,” he says, “no fucking way.”

“Yes way,” Niall says with a huge grin, nodding at him. “This client I’m working with is a member and he referred me!”

“You’re the coolest, Niall Horan!” Harry says, taking the key from him and observing it more carefully. Club Yale is a secret exclusive club only select people are allowed to enter. Harry read about it in one of Nick’s fashion magazines. Apparently, it’s hard to get in, next to being over the top and high end.

“I guess we better get dressed then,” Niall says, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Yeah,” Harry says, a similar grin on his face.

Thirty minutes later, Niall and Harry are both sabotaging Nick’s room. It took a while before Niall was able to pick the lock but thanks to Harry’s whispers of encouragement and Niall’s concentration, they were able to break in.

It feels like a mall in Nick’s room. On top of his dresser are perfumes lined up neatly along with his gold Rolex watches and bracelets. Beside the bedroom door is rack full of shoes of all sorts. Leather boots, Gucci slip ons, designer boat shoes and so on. And the most amazing part is his closet filled to the brim with clothes from high end designers from around the world.

It feels like heaven.

“Dibs on the golden Rolex,” Niall says, running towards his dresser and slipping the Rolex on. “God, this must cost a fortune!” He watches the Rolex on his wrist with amazement in his eyes.

“28,000 to be exact,” Harry says while he opens his closet. He hears Niall mumble “ _I think I’ll stick to my Casio thanks_ ,” as he rummages through all the clothes.

“No way,” Harry says, taking a black and white floral suit out. “This is not due to come out till next season! How did he get this?”

Niall shrugs at him. “I don’t know,” he says, taking a three-piece checkered suit out. “But I think it suits you.” He wiggles his eyebrows at him and Harry can’t help but unbutton his shirt.

Three hours later, Niall and Harry are dressed in Nick’s fancy suits. Niall didn’t go with his original choice - which was the checkered one - but went with the black suit and crisp white dress shirt, partnering it with some black glasses. Harry on the other hand, went with the black and white floral suit. The moment he put it on, he knew it was the one.

Niall called an Uber for them so they can get to their destination. Harry feels like an international spy as their Uber drives through a road filled with warehouses and empty buildings. Like they’re out to go to some secret mission. He can’t help but feel excited at all this.

“We’re here,” the Uber driver says, eyeing what looks like a fish market. “Is this it?”

“Yeah,” Niall says, taking out the Gucci wallet he ‘borrowed’ from Nick. “Thanks.” The Driver only gives him a suspicious look as he accepts the money from him and drives off.

It takes them another fifteen minutes of walking through the fish market, Niall and Harry walking carefully so their suits won’t get ruined. As soon as they’re at the other end of the market, they turn a corner and reach a dark alley. The street is completely nondescript. All the doors look similar and there’s no sign of life. The only light in the dark alley is an old lamp post.

Niall takes out the scrap of paper that was inside the envelope and consults it.

“Are we looking for some sort of sign?” Harry asks, taking a few steps closer to Niall because a few scary looking, tall white men are nearing them.

“No,” Niall says, still looking at the paper. “It’s a secret club, Harry. We’re supposed to knock on the right door and ask if Bressie’s home.”

“Who’s that?”

“I don’t know,” he says, tucking the paper inside the pocket of his suit jacket and walking towards an ordinary red door with scratches on it. “It’s some sort of secret code thing.”

Fuck. A secret code. This just keeps getting better and better.

Niall knocks on the door three times and asks, “Is Bressie Home?” There’s a few seconds of silence before the door opens as if by magic. Niall and Harry can’t help but look excitedly at one another.

They enter and the door immediately closes behind them. They try to look if there’s a security person or something but there are none. Inside is a dimly lit corridor with pulsing music echoing throughout its walls, and at the end of it is a steel door.

They both walk as confidently as they can towards the door, their designer shoes audible on the wooden floors.

As Niall slips the rusty key in through the keyhole, he looks back at Harry and mutters a quick, “Act cool,” before turning it to open the door.

Harry hastily straightens his clothes and ruffles his curls as they both enter the club. He makes sure to focus on the black velvet floor so he can stop himself from gawking in case a celebrity is there or something.

Niall leads them to an empty booth, where they take a seat in front of the other and read their menus. They sit in silence as they view the cocktail menu, both not daring to look up.

“Have you seen anyone?” Harry hears Niall mutter quietly.

“No,” Harry says, eyes focused on the menu. “What about you?”

“I was too focused on looking at this table to look around.”

“I was too busy watching the floor.”

There’s a few more minutes of silence before Harry can’t take it anymore. “I’m gonna take a look around,” he tells Niall.

“No!” Niall half shouts. “I mean, no. People will think that we’re new here or something.”

“But we are new here!” Harry retorts. And before Niall can say anything, he puts his menu down and skims swiftly around the club, trying to take in as much detail as he can muster.

The club has low lighting and there are a lot of plush violet sofas and chairs, with an impressive looking bar in a corner. He sees three men dressed in t-shirts seated at the bar, a few ladies sharing one booth drinking cocktails, a couple at a table talking, and a few others on the dancefloor. No celebrities. Nothing really special except that it’s a secret bar. And honestly, Harry feels a little too overdressed.

“What do you see?” Niall hisses, still looking at his menu.

“I don’t know,” Harry says, still looking around. “I think that guy at the bar looks like that actor from Harry Potter.” Niall causally lifts his head from the menu and also scans the room.

“No, I don’t think so,” he says, looking back at Harry.

“What about that guy in the leather jacket,” Harry says, nodding at the guy on the dancefloor. “Isn’t that a member of a boyband or something?”

“No,” Niall says, also looking at him. “I don’t think so.”

“What about-”

“Hi!” someone says, startling both of them. They both turn around to see two girls facing them with shy smiles. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to scare you... It’s just... Aren’t you two members of that famous boy band One Direction?”

_Oh for God’s sake._

After Niall gets rid of the girls, explaining that he gets mistaken for Neil from One Direction a lot, they both order jack and coke. Okay so, this place doesn’t have any celebrities. It’s fine. It’s not like Harry was interested or anything. He just wanted to have a quiet night in with his best friend.

“So,” Niall says as he takes a drink, “how’s work treating you?”

Harry groans at that and leans back in the chair. “It’s been a long week, I can tell you that.”

“How come?”

“Well,” Harry starts, grabbing his glass from the table. “Remember that guy I told you about, from the plane?”

“Yeah?” he asks, both eyebrows raised. “The one who knows all your secrets?”

“Yeah, him,” he says. “You see, my boss...”

By the time Harry’s done telling Niall everything, he’s had four drinks already and Niall’s blood red from laughing at him.

“I can’t believe it,” he says in between laughs. “Of all the people, Harry.” Harry responds by giving him a death glare. Niall orders another drink for himself to help calm him down and as soon as it’s served, he finishes it in one go. _Fucking Irish._

“I’m sorry, Haz,” he says, wiping his face using a napkin. “It’s just... I can’t believe your luck.”

“I know,” Harry says with a sigh, “I mean, of all the people to turn up at the office claiming to be the big boss, it had to be _that_ guy.”

But he seems nice though,” Niall says. “I mean, if that were me, I would’ve used all your secrets against you.”

“That’s because you’re evil, Niall,” he says, throwing a peanut at him. “And Zayn isn’t like that... He’s actually nice and easy to talk to.”

Niall gives him a teasing look. “So when did Mr Malik become just Zayn?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“He prefers to be called Zayn,” Harry says, his face turning red. He signals the bartender to bring them two more jack and cokes.

Once the waiter serves them their drink and goes away, Niall gives him a close look. “Harry,” he says more seriously, “do you fancy the guy?”

“No!” Harry says immediately, nearly spitting his drink out. “Of course not.”

“Mm-hmm” Niall says, sipping his drink. “Yeah, right.”

“Listen, it only seems that way because we were in a traumatic experience together,” Harry explains, setting his drink down on the table. “Nothing more. And besides, he’s leaving next week, so after all this is over, everything will be back to normal.”

“I guess you’re right,” Niall says with a shrug. “I can’t help but wonder, though.”

“Wonder what?” Harry asks, sipping his own drink.

“If it’s two sided.”

“What’s two sided?” Harry asks, intrigued.

“You know,” Niall says, leaning back on his chair. “If he fancies you like you fancy him. You know, if the feeling is mutual.”

Harry blushes at that thought. “You’re talking bullshit,” he says, concentrating on the moisture his glass is producing. “The only thing that’s mutual in our relationship is that airplane experience. Nothing else.”

“Suit yourself.” They enjoy the silence, both leaning back against the cushions and trying to digest all the expensive alcohol they’ve consumed.

Harry can’t help but think of what Niall said as he sits back and feels the buzz from the alcohol. He doesn’t like Zayn. He does! But not in a romantic way. He likes him as a colleague. As a boss. That’s it.

 _He opened up to you that one time,_ a voice inside his unsober head argues.

That was one time, Harry thinks. It doesn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t mean anything.

_But what if it means something!_

“No!” Harry says aloud, making Niall look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“What was that?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Harry says more to himself than to Niall, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

Harry needs to focus on a new goal.. Not fall for Zayn Malik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say Hi on Tumblr ~ zarrie.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, You've reached the end of the story. (for now lol)  
> But don't worry, stay tuned for updates. I already have chapters 2, 3 written and the last one (Chapter 4) is still underway. 
> 
> Before you go though, of course I want to say my proper thank you's and sorry's
> 
> First off is the 1drarepair mods. I want to apologize to the mods for not finishing everything on time. it's just that the story went longer than expected and a lot has been happening (Hence, work, the holidays, my dog dying etc..) But of course, I promise this'll be complete by the end of February and I promise that this'll be worth the wait. (Well, I hope it's worth the wait. Lol)
> 
> lots of thank you's also to Romy for being the best beta ever and for taking time to read my shit regardless of her busy schedule.
> 
> a million kudos to Lex, who I wrote the story for, who also bullied me everyday so I could finish this. Again, you're (?) cheerleading is really effective I swear people should hire you as a writing coach. Thanks for the handholding, the messages, the tweets, the dms and all that. You're the true MVP and I hope you like this your royal fluffness, queen of zarry fluff. ♥
> 
> and to all those who encouraged and hand held, you all know who you are.. thank you!
> 
> stay tuned for chapter 2, coming February 16 2018 (or earlier!!)
> 
> ~
> 
> say hi on tumblr - zarrie.tumblr.com


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